


Etched on the Body

by theashemarie



Category: Splatoon
Genre: :3c i'm angst now, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Lots of Secrets, POV Marina, Pining, Rating for Cursing, Secrets, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, no more wholesome ashe, suggestion from Pantal00ns!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-10-12 18:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theashemarie/pseuds/theashemarie
Summary: "It makes sense that Marina fell in love with Pearl. If the marks really are there, they’re meant for each other. If the marks really are there, they’re destined, chosen by whichever force of the universe that doles these things out.What doesn’t make sense is why Pearl hasn’t fallen just the same."[Soulmate AU]





	1. Freckled

**Author's Note:**

> [Suggestion from Pantal00ns on Tumblr](https://theashemarie.tumblr.com/post/187247830154/pearlina-soulmate-au-there-are-a-few-prompts): "There are a few prompts I've seen around tumblr, like soulmates having a countdown timer until they meet on their wrists, or the name, or the first thing they say to each other, or any other identifier. I think a soulmate AU in your writing style and the way you characterize Marina and Pearl would be adorable and sweet." 
> 
> Sorry to say, I pulled out the Uno reverse card on this one... No adorable and sweet... Angst time. 
> 
> I went with matching marks because my gf Katie came up with the neatest idea for an interesting inkling/octoling ink color mark... You'll see.
> 
> \--
> 
> [Fanart by the amazing Cauden!](https://twitter.com/CaudenArt/status/1195325261241356288?s=20) (Spoilers for the final chapter.)

The moment, when it comes, is a small one. Marina realizes after a concert, during the foggy period that they usually forget come morning—the stripping of costumes behind the privacy screen, the scrubbing of makeup, boots kicked off, the car ride home, sitting next to one another and not touching—and it happens so suddenly that, later, Marina won’t be sure she saw correctly.

The denial will come, but, in the moment, Marina is struck dumb, flash frozen in an instant. She stands and stares, watches Pearl’s cream skin ripple and move as she strips off her dress and shimmies out of her tights. There, on her hip, on a section of skin that Marina has never been privy to, in their three years of friendship, is a peppering of freckles, seemingly random, but they’re not like Pearl’s ordinary freckles—the darker spots that decorate her arms and face.

Instead, these are bright turquoise.

Marina feels her hands come up to her mouth. She can’t breathe for a second, can’t think, can only stare, fascinated, slightly horrified, very shocked, at the freckles. Without thought, she shifts the color of her ink, her hair, her blush, a few shades, makes it more green than blue, and sees the freckles ripple, change along with her, to that exact same shade.

She gasps, gags, coughs, and Pearl glances toward her, still dressed in her low-hanging spandex under shorts and crop top. Pearl must see the absolute terror on her face because her expression changes, shifts just there, drawn down, down, down, into a frown, eyebrows a tight V.

“Marina?” Pearl steps toward her.

Marina, who is still dressed, suddenly feels like her zipper is too heavy, like the leather of her outfit is too sticky, like her tights are too tight and getting tighter. She shakes her head, says something like “I can’t— Gotta— Gotta go!” She isn’t sure which language she uses. And she dives out the room, still in her costume. She runs down the stairs and into the square, where the lights are too bright, the kids are too young and baby-faced, and then ducks into the closest shop—the clothes shop—grabs a random item off the rack, and slides into the dressing room.

She yanks her shorts off one side, pushing her tights down too, and stares at her own hip. There, emblazoned on her skin, in the exact same spot as Pearl’s color-changing freckles, is a dark tattoo of a long, gangly octopus. She can’t see anything else.

But she knows—she knows like she’s fourteen-years-old again—knows that she has identical freckles, in the same spot, under that tattoo.

Freckles that were always, _always_ pink.

+++

Let’s slow things down a bit.

Soulmate marks are common in both inklings and octolings. Almost everyone has one in some capacity. They often manifest just as Pearl’s have—as color-changing freckles that shift and change according to whichever color ink your soulmate has at the time; often, they appear in the exact same spot and configuration as your soulmate’s, which makes identification easier, just as Pearl and Marina’s have.

The difficult thing, for octolings, especially those who climb the ranks in the Octarian Army, is that as soon as a recruit goes through puberty and develops a body and the freckles, they are forced into receiving a tattoo that covers the marks. They’re too distracting, Marina’s been told over and over again, and, as a child, she believed that. After all, she spent the first couple months in her new humanoid body staring at her own hip, poking at the bright pink spots, wondering, briefly, if her soulmate was in a different division or even in the civilian sector.

She never once imagined that she would find that person in a small, loud-mouthed _inkling_ in the middle of Inkopolis. This whole time, Pearl’s been living out her squid life in relative peace, with only a couple spots on her skin to let her know that Marina was out there. After leaving Octo Valley, Marina put the thought of her soulmate out of her head—mostly because she honestly believed that they were an octoling. Plus, after she met Pearl it was like she was blindsided and suddenly she was swept up into life in Inkopolis, life as a musician, then life as part of Off the Hook and as a co-host of the Inkopolis News _and_ the splatfests. Suddenly, she didn’t have _time_ to worry.

(And, of course, some small voice in her head whispers as she stares down at her tattoo, she was already in love with Pearl. It was something she allowed herself to think only briefly, at the darkest part of night when it was just her, her bed, and her own thoughts, something only to be acknowledged when she couldn’t see herself. She was in love with her best friend, and she was too scared to entertain that thought, because she _knew_ that Pearl had a mark of her own. She knew that Pearl was looking for that person, because it often led her to disastrous dates almost every other weekend. Pearl never said anything about the mark, never showed Marina, but Marina knew it was there, weighing on her, because she often angrily wondered aloud, “Why should some dumb _freckles_ decide who I spend my life with?” It hurt Marina to hear and to watch, especially because she _knew_ she could make Pearl happy because they were _already_ happy. They were so domestic—sharing an apartment, working together, grocery shopping together, spending almost all their free time together—and they got along. Nothing major had to change...)

But then, after that last concert, Pearl marched right into the dressing room in front of Marina and declared, “I’m _so sweaty... _What the _fuck_... I have to get this outfit _off_—!” And she pulled her zipper down right there, right in front of Marina without a care in the world. Marina, horrified, fascinated, shocked, could merely stand there, caught by her own fussy emotions and her own wide-eyed stare, unable to look away.

Then Pearl shucked the dress off, followed by the tights, saying “I’m a _sweat monster! _I’m a fuckin’... It’s a _swamp_ in there. Aren’t you hot?”

Marina, eyes landing squarely on the turquoise freckles, was decidedly _not _hot. In fact, she was ice cold. She couldn’t feel her own damn fingers—the fingers that were tipped in the same color as the freckles—and all thought left her.

Then she ran.

And now she’s here.

Hiding from her best friend.

Hiding from her _soulmate._

Hiding from _Pearl._

Her soulmate.

Her best friend.

Her Pearl.

And...

And she has no way to prove it.

Her freckles are covered. Covered by a dark splotch of ink in the shape of an octopus. The only time she can see those freckles is when she’s in octo form and only when she’s angled toward a mirror the right way—and she hasn’t been in octo form in a long time. There was a point where she used to turn into an octopus daily, back when she was still in the army, just to see those small dots of color on her turquoise body. The tattoo didn’t convert over to octo form, but the placement made the freckles hard to see, so Marina gave up eventually. They never changed, stayed pink, stayed splotchy, and, eventually, she forgot about them.

Then, enter Pearl. Enter Inkopolis. Sometime last year, after Marina realized her feelings for Pearl, she locked her bedroom door and looked. They were pink, the same shade that Pearl preferred, but Marina could never be completely sure. She was an octoling of logic; there was no point hoping and wishing for something that would probably never come true. One shade of pink doesn’t make a soulmate, after all. There were countless people who used that color, especially now that Pearl was frequenting the news...

The only way to be sure would be to get a look at Pearl’s right hip, but there was no way that was going to happen. What would she say? _Hey Pearlie, will you strip for me so I can see your hip? I have a hunch. _No... No way.

But now...

Marina leans back against the wall of the dressing room, skin rippling up with goosebumps. She breathes out once, slowly.

There’s only one thing to do.

She has to turn into an octo. She has to turn into an octopus in front of Pearl. She has to tell Pearl she’s an octoling.

She has to tell Pearl she’s an octoling _and_ her soulmate.

She also, desperately, has to hope that Pearl doesn’t just walk away, hurt, scared, angry, or all of the above.

Marina lets out a groan. “_Fuck_ me,” she mumbles in Octarian.

+++

Eventually, Marina has to leave the dressing room and she has nowhere to go so she marches, like she’s on her way to the gallows, back up to the studio. She moves quickly once she turns her back on the dressing room so she can’t second guess herself, and, soon enough, finds herself staring at her own name on the studio’s dressing room door, trading one dressing room for the other. She pushes it open with barely a pause and walks, stiff-legged, past Pearl without a word. Pearl is dressed in street clothes—athletic shorts and a tank top—and she starts and sputters when Marina reappears.

“Where’d you _go_? Are you okay?”

Marina merely steals behind the privacy screen and unzips her top. She tosses it over the screen, where she knows Pearl will pick it up and hang it on its hanger, like they usually do. She tugs on a Mr. Shrug tee and then repeats the process with her shorts and tights. The shorts fly over the screen and she carefully drapes the tights next to Pearl’s on the rack behind the screen. Then, she tugs on a pair of sweatpants, sighs, pulls her hair back into a low ponytail, and swallows the extra spit in her mouth before stepping out to face the music.

Pearl is in the middle of snapping Marina’s shorts onto the hanger so she doesn’t initially notice. Marina watches her back, watches the slight sway of her tentacles as she moves, and feels her mouth go dry. Pearl is so short and so small, the perfect size for Marina to just scoop up and pull into a kiss—so full of energy and spunk and charisma, all stuffed into that small body. Larger than life but in the impeccable little package of loyalty, humor, and rowdiness. She’s the perfect girl, like she was made for Marina and Marina was made for her.

Pearl slams the hanger onto the rod and finally turns. “Mar...” she says when she sees Marina standing there, worrying at the hem of her large shirt. “Are you okay?”

Usually, Marina is the stable one, the one who isn’t liable to rush out at a moment’s notice or on a random whim, so this clearly has Pearl shaken. She’s staring right at Marina, hands curling in and out of fists, like she wants to grab something, and her brow has a deep furrow in it. Marina has to physically stop herself from stepping closer so she can reach out and smooth it.

“I’m fine,” she hears herself lie. She doesn’t know what she wanted to say, but it certainly wasn’t _that_. She digs her nails into her own palm. “I just... felt sick. Needed to clear my head.”

“Oh...” Pearl looks away, blushing hard. “Sorry... Didn’t realize seeing my stomach would make you sick.”

Marina feels approximately like she’s been broadsided by a bus. “_What_?” she demands. Then, once the word leaves her mouth, she realizes what she said, what she implied: that she felt ill right after seeing Pearl pull off her clothes. Oh hell. “_No_,” she says with feeling. Carefully, she steps up to Pearl and puts a gentle palm on the side of Pearl’s face so she can nudge her to look up. It’s second nature, something that Marina’s been doing for years now, but Pearl’s big eyed stare never fails to make her hearts stop every time she looks up at her during these moments—moments of vulnerability, where Marina cradles Pearl’s face and Pearl lets her because she trusts Marina with her everything. “That’s not what I meant. I had a headache from the concert. You know how it is.”

Pearl reaches up and wraps her fingers around Marina’s palm. It’s so intimate that for a second Marina forgets herself, can’t feel her own legs or where they attach to her feet, imagines leaning down and kissing Pearl right there and ending this whole thing, muttering against her lips, _I saw your mark... It’s the same as mine_. Damn the consequences.

She has to bite her own lip to bring herself back to reality.

“I get it.” Pearl pulls Marina’s hand away and lets it go. Marina lets it fall uselessly. “That was a joke. Did it help? Your walk?”

_No_, Marina thinks.

“Yeah,” she says. “It did.”

+++

Back home, Marina sequesters herself in her room, citing her continued headache as an excuse. Pearl watches her go, gaze lingering, clearly worried, and Marina has the intense urge to try to soothe her, to tell her that everything’s okay, but she resists and merely gives Pearl a chagrined smile. As she closes her door, she sees Pearl sigh and shake her head.

Once behind a locked door, Marina angles her full-length mirror toward the bed, clambers on, and shifts forms. She drops into octo form and rests there for a second, enjoying the sensation of being a blob, of not having to deal with all the mess of fingers, toes, ears, and knees. She lets herself relax a bit, to draw comfort from the form that she was born in, and then turns her eyes to the mirror.

It takes a little finagling, but she finally manages to angle herself just so. There they are, her freckles: dotted along her right side and a bright pink, in a familiar pattern, still there even though every time she checks she expect them to be gone, to be eaten by the tattoo or a mere illusion from childhood memories gone bad. But no, they exist, and they’re the exact same shade as Pearl’s hair. And they have to be located on Marina’s hip in the same spot as the tattoo because otherwise Marina would have found them again in humanoid form.

It’s as much confirmation as she’ll ever get, without comparing side-by-side with Pearl.

Unless... she imagined Pearl’s. It could very well be that her eyes were playing tricks on her. It’s possible, especially because she was still stage-blind from all the lights of the concert, _and_ her brain was so tired from all the singing, dancing, smiling, celebrating, keytar playing, and record scratching. She could have been seeing things.

Denial is a hell of a drug. Immediately, the idea that she imagined it brings her relief and dread. Relief because she _won’t_ have to out herself to Pearl after all, and dread because those marks are the confirmation she needs, the thing that will strengthen her resolve to finally suck it up and tell Pearl the truth, tell her the whole of her past. If it’s true and the mark _is _there, then Marina’s every dream can come true. If it’s not there, then she might as well crawl into bed and never come out again.

Now that she’s so close to possibly having it all, she realizes how desperately she wants it. She _wants_ Pearl so bad—wants to scoop her up and kiss her and hold her hand and snuggle up with her on the couch and plan a future where it’s them together against the world no matter what. She loves their music, loves their jobs, loves their lives, loves how they are _together_. She doesn’t want to give that up, doesn’t want to jeopardize it, but she also wants things to go further.

It makes sense that Marina fell in love with Pearl. If the marks really are there, they’re meant for each other. If the marks really are there, they’re destined, chosen by whichever force of the universe that doles these things out.

What doesn’t make sense is why Pearl hasn’t fallen just the same.

Marina tries not to think about that too much—how she’s tripped and fallen head first so hard, while Pearl hasn’t—but today it strikes her in the chest, forces her to shift from octo form back to humanoid just so she can press a hand against her chest to try to alleviate some of the pressure building there. She lets her eyes flutter closed and sniffs to hold back the tears that suddenly prick her eyes. Another reason the marks might be just a trick of the light: Marina, smitten; Pearl, not-so-smitten. In fact: Pearl, unaffected.

For a second, Marina pictures a scenario where she does it, where she reveals herself and shows Pearl their matching marks and Pearl merely shrugs and says “Cool.” Or worse, she grimaces and says that something must have gone wrong, that this can’t be right, that the universe is cruel and is tricking them because she can’t ever see herself feeling that way for Marina.

Marina rolls over onto her stomach and shoves her face in the pillow. She lets out a small sob, only one, just to make the image go away, and instead tries to picture a world where that doesn’t happen. Instead, she spills her guts, shows Pearl her most vulnerable side, and Pearl is delighted. Pearl is _ecstatic. _Pearl loves Marina right back.

It’s a beautiful dream, but it’s just that: a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3c
> 
> I have about five chapters of this written and it's almost done. Originally, I was going to keep the whole story as a oneshot but once it broke 15k words I knew I had to break it up. I'm going to try to update this once a week until it's done. I also aim to update a few of my other stories, but we'll see! Hopefully they'll each be updated at least once before this one's done... 
> 
> Find me on Twitter, where I post sneak peaks, make memes, be gay, and yell about writing: [@theashemarie](https://twitter.com/theashemarie)!
> 
> Next update will be next weekend, either on September 14th or 15th! See you then! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are cherished! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	2. Peeled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 4am snack, a breakfast, and a couple revelations...

Eventually, Marina has to leave her room because, no matter how emotionally shattered she is, she has to eat. Not because she’s hungry. Her body prioritizes survival over everything else because that’s how she’s been trained, so eventually it occurs to her that she hasn’t eaten since breakfast and she rolls to her feet without thinking. It’s well past four in the morning so Pearl will probably either be out or asleep, depending on her mood and how many energy drinks she consumed while Marina was moping. Either way, Marina should be able to get in and out of the kitchen without any sort of interaction.

Then, of course, as soon as she steps into the kitchen, she sees Pearl there, asleep with her head resting on the table. There’s a cup of what looks to be coffee sitting next to her limp hand, untouched, and her phone is lying face up, like an expectant child waiting for attention, on the table next to the mug. Across from her is a small plastic container of humus with a pile of carrot chips, peeled and chopped into jagged, imperfect pieces, on a plate next to it. A glance in the sink reveals the peeler, the knife, and the cutting board. Marina sighs.

A touch to the hummus reveals it to be warm so it’s been sitting out for a while, but that doesn’t matter. She drops into the seat and crunches into the food.

Pearl doesn’t like hummus, so it’s pretty clear what she’d been up to—at least until the mistress of sleep called her away. Pearl has this habit of trying to feed Marina, mostly because Marina has strange eating habits. She eats when she remembers to, not when she’s supposed to, which means that she’ll eat either one meal or five, depending on how often she remembers. Usually, it’s only breakfast and dinner, both taken with Pearl, because Pearl is very scheduled about only a few things—food, the news, sleep, and recording sessions—and she’ll annoy Marina until she eats.

It’s a small sort of rebellion against the structured nature of her childhood. In Octo Valley, she ate at the exact same time, three times a day, every day, for as long as she can remember. That, along with sleeping, is the thing that she took control of first, as soon as she popped her head out of the valley. Those two core tenants of survival and she decided that she was _done_ with following schedules. She eats when she’s hungry or when she remembers to and she sleeps when she’s tired (unless she’s at work or otherwise occupied). It drives Pearl up the wall because she’s surprisingly regimented about these two things. Sleep is for the AM hours on the clock, especially the small ones, and food is to be eaten within an hour of waking and approximately eight hours after that, maybe with some snacks or lunch thrown in depending on how active she is.

So, Pearl has this habit of making and leaving food where she thinks Marina will find it. Any other time, Marina would think it was endearing, but just now, as she munches on the uneven carrots, she thinks it’s a little cruel. Here she is, twisting herself up in knots, panicked because of some matching freckles, suffering quietly because she loves her best friend so much, and said best friend is being incorrigibly kind, cute, and caring because she loves Marina too.

Just not in the same capacity or manner.

And that’s what sucks. Pearl does love Marina—just not in the same way. She _adores_ Marina, and Marina adores her; they’re best friends and they take care of each other.

Marina sighs and pushes the food away, suddenly without the stomach for it. She groans and lays her head on the table, one hand falling to rest on her own hip. _Ugh_, she really doesn’t know what to do...

The truth is that she’s been wanting to tell Pearl for a while—that she’s an octoling, that is. It feels wrong to keep such a huge secret, but she just hasn’t managed to gather up enough courage yet. There have been plenty opportunities, but an asynchronous mismatch between those opportune moments and Marina’s nerve. It’s not easy, telling your most important person, your safety net, your first friend in your new, unfamiliar life, that you’ve been lying to her this whole time.

Especially when that person is Pearl.

Marina knows, somewhere in the back of her head, that Pearl won’t be _too _upset... She’ll probably understand. But, the rest of Marina’s brain very much is terrified of the _what ifs_. What if Pearl _does _get upset? Worse—what if she’s _hurt_ that Marina didn’t tell her? Didn’t trust her? What if she blames herself? What if she doesn’t trust Marina ever again?

Marina groans again and focuses on her hip, tries to feel those dumb freckles under her clothes. Her fingers tighten, just there, as if she could pluck them out, pull them from her skin. But she can’t. The freckles, under her clothes, under the tattoo, will remain in all their silent complication.

“_Nng_...” Pearl lets out a groan and Marina sees her shift, sees her hands tighten into fists and her head tilt so she can groan into her own shoulder. She wakes slowly, like a bear after a great hibernation, and stretches briefly. Her hand searches blindly, deftly dodges the mug of untouched coffee, and lands on her phone, which she tilts toward her face. One angry eye pokes open and she checks the time before slapping the phone back onto the table.

“Four in the fucking morning,” she grumbles to herself. She closes her eyes again and lets her head loll against the table. She aims a tired finger in Marina’s direction, even though she hasn’t looked that way this whole time. “You suck.”

Marina immediately perks up into defense mode, recognizing banter when she hears it. “I didn’t tell you to fall asleep on the table.”

“Yeah?” Pearl asks the table. “Yeah well, you went and scared me so I couldn’t go to _bed_. And then I realized you hadn’t _eaten_...” She lifts her head and squints in the low light right at Marina. “I didn’t make it that far, clearly. Did you know this slab of wood is comfortable?” She knocks her fist into it.

“I didn’t.”

“Actually, I lied. It’s terrible. Don’t fall asleep here.” She groans and sits up completely, finally, and casts a disgusted glare at the cup of cold coffee. “Also, this?” She shoves it across the table toward Marina. Some of it sloshes out but Pearl doesn’t seem concerned. “Fucking disgusting. No, don’t drink it,” she adds when Marina reaches for it. “I made it with an energy drink instead of water.”

Marina sputters. “What? _Why?_”

“I wanted to stay up with you! But it was so nasty I had to fight to swallow one sip and that knocked me out!” She crosses her arms, petulant. “The lengths I go to.”

Marina leans back in her seat, confused. Sometimes, especially this late at night, she can’t read Pearl or her intentions. Part of it has to be cultural, but the rest is all Pearl. She’s a confusing person when she wants to be. “What are you trying to prove?” she eventually asks, just to get some straight answers.

“Nothing! I was worried! Are you okay? I haven’t seen you that spooked since... Well... Since never! Did I cross a line?”

Marina blinks hard. “What? No... What line?”

Pearl throws up her hands, suddenly incredibly animated despite how groggy she clearly is. “The one that says _don’t strip in front of your friend_? I don’t know! All I know is you saw more skin than normal, and you fled! And I don’t use that word lightly because it makes me sound like a _nerd_, but you _fled!_”

Marina shifts uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you.”

Pearl must hear something in her voice because she deflates. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush you. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Marina wants to talk about it. She wants to lay it all out. She wants it all to be over. But she also really, really doesn’t. So, she says nothing.

“You need to eat though,” Pearl says and points at the food. “Then, bed. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

Marina laughs once, a hollow sound without any feeling, but it seems to placate Pearl. She suddenly feels like a fraud, like a cad, like a phony, because she can’t just suck it up and _tell her_... Tell her _something_, one thing, anything, to get this pressure off.

Instead, she pulls the carrots back and munches into one, dry. Pearl leans back, satisfied, gratified that Marina is allowing herself to be taken care of, even in this small way.

+++

The next morning, things progress like normal for about two minutes. Marina sleeps in because they don’t have work and when she eventually pads into the kitchen, groggy, Pearl is there, in the same spot. The only evidence that she’s moved is that she’s wearing different clothes. For a minute, Marina doesn’t remember what happened yesterday and she greets Pearl like everything is normal and goes to dig around in the fridge for some orange juice.

She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, her body exhausted from the concert and spent of all of its adrenaline, and her sleep was like a haze with no dreams. She basically turned off for seven hours, and now she’s here, staring into the fridge with a furrowed brow, trying to remember what she’s supposed to remember.

Then, her eyes land on the hummus, half gone now, and everything comes flooding back. She nearly bites her own tongue and considers, for half a second, climbing into the fridge and closing the door behind her.

Instead, she wraps her fingers around the cool neck of the orange juice bottle and pulls it free. She avoids looking at Pearl and steps toward the counter, where a cup is already waiting for her, along with some freshly buttered toast. She pours the juice and carefully spins the top back on before grabbing up the cup to take a sip.

“How’d you sleep?” Pearl asks, and her voice almost makes Marina choke on the juice. Over Marina’s coughing, she continues, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

Marina finally clears her windpipe of liquid and casts a baleful glance over shoulder. “This toast for me?”

Pearl waves her hand. “Of course. I already ate.”

Marina carries the plate and her juice to the table, sits tentatively across from Pearl. “I slept like the dead,” she answers truthfully.

Pearl looks pleased by that and she nods once. “Good. I have a question. Don’t freak, okay? Do... Do you have— Listen, I know it’s not common in every family, but I was just wondering what your opinion is about... soulmate marks.”

For the second time, Marina almost dies during breakfast. This time, it’s to a crumbly, dry piece of toast. She inhales too quickly, sending tiny crumbs down her throat and she hacks a few times to jostle them free.

Pearl watches her, slightly chagrined, but doesn’t take back her question.

“_Why_—” Marina coughs again and takes a drink to calm her dry, panicked throat. “Why do you ask?”

Pearl sighs and traces the wood grain of the table with her finger. “I was thinking about last night. You saw it, didn’t you? That’s why you freaked. You saw my turquoise freckles.”

Marina, feeling gutted and like she can’t breathe properly, has to fight to keep herself from running away, from superjumping through the ceiling, from shifting into octo form right there so she can slither away down the drain in the sink. “I...” Her hands tighten into fists on either side of her plate and Pearl’s eyes watch them, like laser focused, burnt-sun disks.

“It’s okay,” Pearl says. “I... I forget about them a lot. I think they’re stupid. You know they’re always turquoise? Except during splatfests, when they’re always the color of your side. Whoever is it, they’re a huge Marina fan.” She smiles to herself. “Excellent taste, if you ask me.”

Marina can’t quite feel her tongue so she can’t say anything. Half of her wants to yell, to scream, to declare to Pearl and the world that it’s _her_! The dots are _hers!_ The other half is screaming and yelling about how dangerous this all is.

“The problem is...” Pearl sighs and looks down at her own hands, at her gnawed fingernails and the lines on her palms. “The problem is... I’m in love with someone else.”

That strikes Marina like lightning. She almost blacks out for a second—but she keeps it together, keeps herself upright, even though she can’t feel her hearts they’re beating so fast. She feels like she’s going to die for a second because this is too much to handle in such a short amount of time. It hasn’t even been _twenty-four hours_ since she saw Pearl’s hip, and now _this—_

“I’m sorry...” Marina hears her own voice say. She feels beaten to a pulp, because of _course_ there’s someone else. Pearl has so many friends, so many people she hangs out with or talks to. It doesn’t matter that Marina is right here, living out her life right next to her, sharing a job, sharing a band. There’s always someone else.

Pearl laughs, a hollow angry sound. “I can’t tell her, you know? I can’t do that to her. What if the person with matching freckles shows up? I couldn’t do that to her.” She shakes her head and makes an angry sound. “Listen, Marina...”

She stands and crosses the room, grabs up Marina’s hand and holds it tightly in her own. Her eyes are wide and alive with a bright fire, like the molten core of their distant sun, desperate in their intensity. “Listen, okay? Don’t worry about those freckles, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t show you before. I honestly didn’t think you’d freak. They’re... They’re nothing.”

Marina looks up at her. Like this, with Pearl standing, they’re almost the same height. “Okay,” she says. She can’t say anything else.

Pearl wraps her arms around Marina’s shoulders and pulls Marina’s head into her chest. Just there, Marina can hear her hearts. It’s the first time in a long time that Pearl has initiated a hug this intimate; usually, it’s Marina that does this because she loves physical affection, loves hugs and snuggles and to show Pearl how much she cherishes her by holding her close. For a second, Marina relaxes just there, in her shoulders, and Pearl rubs a hand on her back.

“They’re nothing,” Pearl says again, and Marina isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince herself or Marina. “I guess they’re kinda weird to see if you don’t have some of your own, huh?”

Marina isn’t sure what to say. She doesn’t want to lie, so her brain panics and she says, “No, I have some.”

Pearl freezes. Her hand turns from a soothing feather of a touch to a hard block, resting right in the middle of Marina’s back. “What?”

Marina skitters back a few metaphorical steps, brain whirling to try to salvage this. “I think they’re stupid too,” she whispers. “I avoid looking at them.”

Pearl doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. “Mm.” It’s a short sound. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t think it was important...” Marina sighs and wraps her arms around Pearl’s middle, trying to mitigate the shock of that small revelation and also because she really, _really_ needs this hug. “Pearlie... I’m sorry.”

The hug seems to jostle something free. Pearl tightens her arms. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s none of my business.”

_It is_, Marina wants to say. Instead, she merely turns her head and buries her face in Pearl’s chest.

+++

After breakfast, Pearl excuses herself and leaves the apartment completely. Before she goes, she tugs on her boots without sitting, hopping around on one foot, and she almost falls, crashes into the wall with a loud _thud_. Marina, still at the table, trying to seem busy on her phone, jerks in shock and calls out to her.

“I’m _fine_,” Pearl says, and Marina swears that her voice is thicker than usual, snottier, as if she’s holding back tears.

Marina can’t help it. She goes to her and holds her elbow as she stubbornly continues to pull her shoes on while vertical. Pearl avoids her eyes and stoops down to tie the laces while Marina stands there, clutching the long sleeves of her sweatshirt around her palms. She feels like a small child, anxious in her helplessness, and Pearl sniffles once, sucking as much air as she can in through her nose.

When she rises again, Marina stops her as she reaches for her keys. “Hey, Pearlie...” She’s not sure what she’s doing, but she needs to say _something_. She feels like if she lets Pearl go out that door without some sort of conversation they’ll never get past this; this will be the end of them. “It’ll be okay...” She wraps her arms around Pearl’s body and pulls her close. She’s nothing more than a stiff rod of an inkling, tense in all the wrong places, and the arms that she returns are rigid and loose.

Marina places one small peck of a kiss on the top of Pearl’s head. Tries to tell Pearl, as her lips rest there along her hairline, how much she cares, how much this sucks, how much she wishes she could just suck it up, how much is at stake. Tries to explain herself with the force of her kiss. It’s all she can do, because she daren’t get between Pearl and the girl that she loves—this mystery girl that Marina will have to come to accept eventually.

It hits her then, as she’s pulling away. She’ll never reveal those marks if it means getting in the way of Pearl’s happiness. If Pearl loves someone else, Marina will be happy for her. Marina will never _ever_ put Pearl in a situation where she has to choose between Marina and the one she loves most. It might slowly kill her, rip her hearts out one at a time, but she’d rather see Pearl happy than jeopardize that for her own feelings.

“Will it?” Pearl mutters, clearly fed up. She sighs and finally looks up. Her eyes are far away, and her lip is poking out just there, in a small pout that’s all frustration.

“Yes,” Marina says with feeling. “Don’t worry about those freckles. Whoever matches you... I’m sure, if they could see you now, they’d want you to be happy. No matter what. They’d want you to be with your girl.”

Pearl squints and for a second Marina thinks that she’s somehow figured it out. She prepares herself for the worst, tenses, and leans away slightly.

Then, Pearl sighs and detaches herself. “I couldn’t do that to her,” she says, in a direct echo of earlier. “If I hurt her...” She shakes her head and grabs her keys. “I might be back late. Don’t wait up for me, okay? I’ll text you.”

She doesn’t slam the door, which leaves Marina feeling inexplicably unfulfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a LOT of people make Marina the cook but like... y'all... Marina undoubtedly had every meal provided for her. Pearl at least probably sat in the kitchen a few times and watched the cook while she was playing her gameboy. I'm just saying. 
> 
> Early update this week because I have something special planned for Monday! :3c Keep your eyes peeled! 
> 
> Also, ASDGHASDGHSDF? Thank you so _much_ for all of the comments and kudos last chapter!! I'll be replying to those shortly! (Also also if you commented on another fic of mine and I haven't replied it's because I suck and I'm sorry.)
> 
> Next update will be on Sunday, September 22! See you then! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! They make me yell like AAAAAAAAAAA!


	3. Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina writes a song; Pearl reappears.

Marina busies herself with work for about an hour. She tries to answer emails and approve wardrobe for their next tour, but all of the designs begin to look the same and she needs Pearl’s opinion anyway. Eventually, she climbs back onto her bed but this time she has her keyboard, which she lays across her crossed legs. She picks at the keys, plucking melodies out of the air, and places Octarian lyrics to them. It’s easier to write in Octarian—always has been—and she loves the way Pearl’s eyes fall closed when she hears it, how she seems to give herself to the music in a way that she can’t when it’s in the language she understands. She’s never asked what Marina’s saying or even what language she’s using, just appreciates the different syllables, the glancing vowels, like only a musician can. After all, at the end of the day, it’s not the lyrics that matter but the emotion and the intention.

Eventually, Marina arrives at something that she’s content with and she performs it once for the benefit of her phone’s recording app. She always does her best work when she’s trying to distract herself from something, as awful as that is. It’s like the fuller her brain is, the easier it is for her to lose herself—mostly because she _wants_ to forget all this, wants the melodies, countermelodies, rhythms, crescendos, lyrics, the keys of the keyboard, the vibration of her own voice in her chest and head to carry her away, to get between her and the world. She shuts everything out and becomes nothing more than a pair of hands on the keyboard, an expanding diaphragm, a set of vibrating vocal cords, and a mouth, wrapping itself delicately around Octarian, parsing syllables with her teeth, her tongue, her jaw.

When she finishes the recording, she leans back against her pillows and closes her eyes. Her phone is limp in her hand, buzzing only with messages from their agent or publicist. She has a few friends outside of Pearl, but she hasn’t spoken to them for a few days—too distracted by the concert and everything else. She considers shooting them a message, but she honestly doesn’t have the strength to explain all this, to try to articulate this whole mess. Besides, how will she explain the octoling thing? No one knows except her.

No, she has to figure this one out herself, and she’s pretty much already decided. She won’t get in the way of Pearl’s happiness. That means she has to keep going how she’s been going. Basically, she has to pretend like she didn’t see what she saw. She needs to put that away, go back to living under the assumption that her soulmate is an octoling still unaffected by the Calamari Inkantation, go back to slowly falling in love with Pearl with no hope of it being returned.

She can do this. She’s used to this. She just needs to keep Pearl’s happiness in mind.

She drops her phone and lets her hands land on the keyboard. There’s a loud, discordant, cacophonous strike as she hits too many keys. She flinches.

Yeah, that’s how it feels inside her body. Forget all this melodious shit.

+++

Eventually, she remembers to send the recording to Pearl and receives no reply. She didn’t expect one so she doesn’t take it personally. Instead, she pulls her body from bed and leaves her keyboard behind, nestled comfortably amongst the covers. She decides that she’s done being productive and deposits herself on the couch in front of the television, which is playing a marathon of a sitcom that she hates but has been meaning to watch (so she can properly hate it). She leans back against the cushions and stares, blank-faced, at the TV for hours, getting more and more agitated at the actions of the people on screen. 

Around dinnertime, she gets a text from Pearl: _eat smthn! :p_

Marina scowls at her phone, frustration from the show seeping through. She types back a quick message: _You’re not my mother..._

Pearl’s reply is quick: _no but i am ur partner_

For some reason, that makes Marina’s whole body heat up. She stares at it, at that word—_partner_. She knows what Pearl means, but she can’t help but read into it. It makes her antsy and she feels like she needs to get up and pace.

Her phone vibrates again: _i’m getting pizza. u better have the table ready for me_

Marina can’t help but smile and she rises from the couch.

When Pearl gets back, she kicks the door open, a large pizza box in her hands like a promise, and calls “Honey, I’m home!”

Marina, with two glasses palmed in her hands, can’t help but grin. It almost feels normal, and for a second, she forgets everything because this is them: Pearl and Marina, taking care of each other, sharing meals, enjoying each other’s company at the end of the day.

“No kiss for me?” Pearl asks as she sets the box in the middle of the table. She opens it with a flourish. “I brought home the bacon!”

It’s a common tease. Pearl likes to joke like this because they’ve been living together for a while. Playing house, she calls it, and usually Marina would oblige her, press a small, innocent kiss to her cheek, but that’s just too much for her right now. She can’t so soon after her decision to let this stall out.

Pearl clearly sees the hesitation and denial on Marina’s face. She waves her hand. “I get it. It’s about time I start returning the favor...” She grabs Marina’s hand and places a loud, expressive _smack_ against the back of it. If it wasn’t so silly, it would make Marina swoon.

Pearl’s behavior is strange, so different from the quiet frustration of this morning, so something must’ve happened while she was out. Marina hopes that it was good, that she didn’t spend the day kicking the sidewalk as she skulked around the city, worrying about Marina’s panic response to her soulmate mark.

“Listen Mar...” Pearl is still holding her hand, has it clutched tightly between both of hers. “I’m sorry about this morning. Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

Marina lets out a small breath because that’s _exactly_ what she wants. “Okay,” she answers gratefully.

Pearl gives her a look that’s all relief. “Okay good... But... You can say no, but I was wondering... Can I see it? Your mark I mean.”

It hits like a loud cymbal crash against Marina’s head. She yanks her hand away like she’s been scalded and sees hurt flit across Pearl’s face.

“I’m sorry!” Pearl cries. The hurt disappears completely, replaced with panic, hands rising to try to calm Marina’s sharp movement. “It’s just that you saw mine and... And... And I thought we could help each other! One of us deserves happiness, right? If I’ve seen yours, then I can help you find your match...”

It makes sense in a Pearl way. Marina can see the logic behind it but— But she _can’t_... She can’t show Pearl because it’s _covered_—

She’d have to turn into an octo.

...she’s _definitely_ not doing that, not now, not after this whirlwind of a day.

“I don’t—”

“Reena...” Pearl shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I... I care about you, okay? I want to help you. I don’t know if I even _want_ to find my match because of this whole mess I’m in, but _you_— You _deserve_ to find yours! Please... Let me help you.”

Marina groans because she can feel her will breaking right there. Pearl looks _so sad_ and so _desperate_ and she just wants to _help_— She’s the sweetest, most thoughtful person Marina’s ever met, and she can’t deny her anything, not for long, especially when her intentions are so good.

But... in this... she _can’t_.

She feels her hand rise to her hip, a protective, unconscious move as she makes up her mind, as she opens her mouth to say _no_, but Pearl connects the dots, watches her arm move, and she points right at Marina’s hand.

“Is that where it is? That’s... That’s the _same spot _as—”

“It is,” Marina cuts in quickly. “That’s why I freaked.”

“Are they...” Pearl’s hands rise to cover her mouth. “Do we _match_?”

Marina panics, doesn’t know what to say, loses track of herself and her limbs, loses track of her mouth as her survival brain takes over. “I don’t know,” she says. She needs to get Pearl off this runaway train, needs to get control of this whole thing, because she can’t do this, not after she just made up her mind about this whole thing, after she wrote a song about it that Pearl will never understand.

Not after she’s decided to let her own happiness wane, quietly, like a sunset over the ocean.

“What the— The fuck you mean you _don’t know_?”

Marina yanks the right side of her leggings down, just enough for Pearl to see the dark splotch of the tattoo. “I _don’t know_... Because I’ve _never seen it_.”

What’s one more lie on top of the pile? It’s not like this one’s that major anyway, especially compared to the others. This one’s kind, actually, which means that it’s not bad. This is a necessary lie, to help them both move on.

Pearl’s eyes are widening though, because she’s putting it together—the color of it, Marina’s behavior, the last twenty-four hours. “That’s... That’s why it’s _always_ the same color that you are...”

Marina snaps her leggings back into place and throws her hands up. “No, Pearl. No. Stop, okay? Just... Just stop. I...” She feels her eyes heat up. Pearl looks devastated, like this discovery is frying her brain. “I can’t. I... I have to...”

Marina turns on her heel and rushes away, practically sprints back to her room. She hears Pearl call after her, but she doesn’t dare stop. She slams the door behind her and locks it for good measure. Then, she slides into octo form and slithers under the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, don't watch things you hate just so you can hate them more... It's not healthy! 
> 
> Once again, thank you SO MUCH for all the comments and kudos! I had a busy week and coming back to read all these comments really kept me going! <3
> 
> Next update will be on Sunday, September 29! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! <3!


	4. Dried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A one-sided agreement, and Pearl reveals something.

Marina’s time under the bed is marked by nothing. She doesn’t think, just lays there with her eyes closed. She isn’t sure how long she stays under the bed, but eventually she has to emerge because she feels like she’s suffocating, like she can’t breathe, like her simple octopus body can’t hold all the pent up emotion that is begging to be released.

She barely makes it back into the light before she falls back into humanoid form. As soon as she does, she lets loose, right there on the floor—curls her body into a ball and cries, finally letting the past twenty-four hours have its way with her. The sobs are so strong that she doesn’t make a sound, opens her mouth and all that comes out is air.

It’s nice. It’s painful. It’s necessary.

There’s too much for her to parse, for her to sort, for her to comprehend, for her to decide. There’s Pearl, suddenly equipped with the knowledge that they’re matched. There’s Marina, burdened with the knowledge that they’re marked and that Pearl loves someone else. There’s the fact that this time last week she’d completely forgotten about her own mark, was living a blissful life of success and stress (because of the success) without the anxiety of possibly losing her best friend over something she has no control over.

There’s this: she’s completely prepared to live her whole life in pain, just for the sake of someone else’s happiness. And that means that she’s impossibly, deeply _in love_—

There’s thinking, _logically_, that you’re in love, accepting that you’re in love, and then there’s actually _proving_ it to yourself, and it’s got Marina _panicked_ and _in awe _and _angry_ and _exhausted_ and _excited_ and, most of all, _breathless_. She’s _in love_. She’s _in love_ with her _best friend_.

She’s _matched_ with her _best friend_, the person she’s _in love with_.

It’s perfect, something out of those terrible romcoms that Pearl likes to make fun of. It’s bliss. It’s stars. It’s gravity. It’s cosmic. It’s the feeling of Pearl’s body, asleep next to her on the couch as she slumps into Marina’s shoulder. It’s Pearl delivering dinner while Marina’s composing and sharing it on Marina’s bed, facing each other. It’s Pearl grinning at her from her chair in the studio. It’s Marina resting her hand on Pearl’s shoulder and Pearl leaning into her slightly.

It’s two people deciding to do life together, to make it work, to put their trust in each other and start something huge. It’s the band, the news, the splatfests, the concerts, the apartment, the meeting at Mt. Nantai, the couch, the tour bus, the photoshoots, breakfast, dinner, the long, quiet glances they share when there are no words left because it’s past four in the morning and neither wants to say goodnight.

She cries about her love, about the potential energy it’s full of, cries about how it won’t ever become kinetic, will instead build and build inside her. No action, only the climb, up, up, up, to the top of the cliff, where she’ll teeter on the edge and never take the plunge.

Because... Because she loves. _Because_ she loves she can never love fully.

She cries herself dry, rids herself of everything, of every emotion, of all of this. Eventually, nothing comes out and she knows that she’s done.

Marina sits up.

It’s dark. There’s no light coming in from under the door.

Marina stands.

Her body feels crusty after that cry so she marches to the bathroom and steps into the direct spray of the shower, forgetting her clothes. When she feels them plaster to her body, she peels them off slowly and throws them to the floor with a wet slap. When the water goes cold, she steps out and shrugs into a pair of underwear and a robe.

Marina moves on autopilot, trusting her body to take care of itself. She pads to the door and unlocks it with a twist of her fingers. The path to the kitchen is a familiar one and she finds the pizza on the table, untouched. She peels a piece free and chomps on it without tasting it.

“Reena?”

The TV is on, casting blueish light across the living room, hushed in volume. Pearl is on the couch, wrapped up in her favorite fluffy, pink blanket. Her eyes are bagged and red, Marina can see from here, so she’s either been crying or she really needs sleep. Maybe both. She doesn’t move from her cocoon, merely blinks at Marina, exhausted.

Marina imagines that she doesn’t look much better. They both go for the shapeless forms of fluffy fabric when they’re upset, a form of self-care that’s usually a sign of recovery. This time though, it just shows how far they’ve fallen, wrapped up like mummies in their own desperate devastation.

Marina sighs. “Pearlie.”

Pearl doesn’t say anything else, just watches her. And Marina watches her watching. Marina munches on the pizza between blinks and Pearl watches her.

Marina grabs another slice and guides her feet. They slide, barefoot, across the floor, and soon enough she’s standing before Pearl. She offers the pizza, a peace offering of Pearl’s original peace offering, and Pearl takes it with only one moment’s hesitation.

Marina falls onto the couch with a good foot between them. Pearl chews. The TV flickers.

“What we gonna do?” Pearl asks around the crust.

Marina tips her head back, looking up at the ceiling, watching the strange, blue shadows of the TV.

“Nothing,” she says.

No reply. Marina lolls her head over so she can see her small roommate, her partner in all things but heart, her best friend. Pearl stares down at the gnawed, bitten pizza crust.

“What if—” she starts to say, but then aborts, stuffs the crust into her mouth and chews for a long time.

Marina draws a tired hand across the couch. “We can’t know for sure,” she says, her palm held open on the cushions.

“No...” Pearl puts her hand on top of Marina’s. It’s a familiar sensation, their palms touching, fingers loose, a common intimacy. “We can’t...”

+++

They fall asleep like that, hands touching, facing the TV, but, later, when it’s still dark, Marina wakes up on her back with Pearl on top of her, snoring away into the thick fabric of her robe. Before she can break through the fuzz of sleep, she warms in comfort, in contentment, and, just there, she can feel Pearl’s hand on her hip, skin on skin, right over the tattoo. Right over the mark. 

She falls back asleep before she can wake fully and ruin it.

+++

Morning comes like a monster. They wake because Pearl’s phone is buzzing so much it skitters across the table. Pearl wakes first, snuffles her face into the robe, groaning, and Marina follows. Her neck is sore from the armrest and her body fights the whole way, refusing to rise after a long wringer of a weekend. Marina is so tired she doesn’t notice the compromising position that they’re in and instead just keeps her eyes closed and tries to adjust, to get more comfortable.

The phone acts up again, makes a sound like an incoming swarm of bees, and it vibrates again and again, never-ending. Eventually, Marina gets so fed up she grumbles, “_Pearl, your phone!_” and shoves lightly at Pearl’s shoulder.

Pearl lifts her head and Marina cracks her eyes open enough to see Pearl scowl. She reaches toward the table, knocks the offending object to the ground, and snuggles right back into place.

Something tells Marina that she should be upset about this position. This is new and she’s never experienced it before; it’s nice though, the full weight of Pearl’s body on top of hers, anchoring her to the planet. But, didn’t something happen last night? Aren’t they fighting? Or arguing? And the phone’s ringing _again_— Barely muffled by the rug. What on earth do they _want—_

“_Oh,_” Marina breathes as it occurs to her. She sits up with a jolt, upsetting Pearl’s body, sending her tumbling back onto the couch. Pearl lets out a quick, colorful slew of curses and rubs her head.

“Mar... _what_?”

“_Work!_” Marina yells, suddenly wide awake. She shoves Pearl off completely in order to get her legs free and springs to her feet. “We have _work_! What time— _TEN O’CLOCK?!” _Marina points right at the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen, where the hands point accusatorily—an hour after call time, three hours after they were supposed to wake.

Pearl casts a look at the clock and then at her phone, at the screen, lit up with the name of an Inkopolis News producer. “Oh... Huh.” She doesn’t sound worried. She stoops down and grabs the phone, considers the dozens of missed calls, and easily slides into the call to accept it.

“Hello!” she says cheerily. “Yeah, we’re fine. Well, no we’re not. We’re both sick actually. Uh huh. Must’ve caught it at the concert.” She lets out a loud, wet (fake) cough. “Oh yeah, no way we can make it in today. No, you can’t talk to Marina. She’s asleep. She’s waaaaaay worse than me.”

Marina, speechless, glares at her for lying but doesn’t bother trying to interrupt. The truth is that she doesn’t feel up to work today. Her whole body is sore and she’s slowly starting to remember exactly what happened yesterday. It creeps upon her like an angry shadow, sliding its evil, cold fingers around her, and she watches Pearl lie with something like a blizzard settling in her stomach. Her whole body feels cold, sluggish, panicked—

“Sorry for not letting you know. First time for everything, huh! It’s because Marina’s been _so _out of it, cold and all. You know she’s the responsible one. Uh huh. I’ll let her know. Thank you.”

Pearl hangs up and groans, tosses the phone down by her feet on the couch. “She wishes you well and hopes that we recover quickly.” Pearl snorts and leans back. “Anyway, where were we?”

Marina feels her hands curl into fists. “I’m going to my room.”

“Aww Mar! C’mon! I was comfortable!”

Marina, blindsided, feels her stomach drop open at that. “_What_? No. _No_. That was an _accident_. We agreed last night that—”

Pearl points at her. “No, _you_ agreed.” She hooks her thumb toward herself. “_I_ ate a piece of pizza.”

Her nonchalance is so off-putting Marina can’t comprehend it for a second. “I’m leaving now,” she says instead. She can’t do this again, especially so soon after waking up. She needs time and space.

Marina turns and takes a step, the only step she gets, because Pearl lets out a loud, frustrated sound. It’s so explosive and upset that Marina stops before she can take another. Then, Marina hears Pearl push herself to her feet. Marina doesn’t dare turn, just listens, can picture Pearl in her mind, still dressed in her clothes from yesterday, still mussed and rumpled from a night on the couch.

“Marina,” she says, and Marina hears her move closer. A tentative touch against Marina’s hand, the brush of fingers, is the only contact that Pearl initiates. “It’s you.”

Marina’s brain can’t comprehend what that could mean this early in the morning so she merely pulls her hand away. This is too cruel, all this contact, all this back and forth. She’s made up her mind. She’s already started the construction of the walls around her hearts, the walls that will allow her to give Pearl her happiness, that will allow Marina to move on. It won’t be easy, considering how much time they spend together, but it has to be done.

“Reena...” Pearl doesn’t touch her again, respects her boundaries, but her voice is so close that Marina can practically feel her there anyway, a mere couple inches away. “You’re the girl.”

Marina turns. Her body moves without permission and she turns. There’s Pearl, looking up at her with an expression of raw vulnerability, of wonder, completely exposed, brow rumpled, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. Her eyes are bright with what Marina realizes are tears, unshed but mounting, and she looks both happy, elated, and upset that Marina hasn’t put it together yet.

“It’s you,” she repeats. “You’re the person I’m—” She cuts herself off and brings her hands up to her face, palms together, index fingers touching her forehead, like she’s praying. She blows out a small breath, puffing up her cheeks. “You’re the one.”

Marina’s knees give out. She collapses back onto the couch. Her hands barely find purchase before she crashes down. Pearl lets out a surprised yell and lunges to catch her, wraps her hands around Marina’s forearm, and she kneels there, right next to her.

“Marina?”

“You...” Marina swallows and forces her eyes to focus on her own hands in her lap. She can’t— This is— _Pearl_... Pearl is... Pearl loves her. The person Pearl’s so in love with, the person she doesn’t want to hurt... It’s _her_. It’s Marina. Marina in all of her robed, panicked messiness. Marina with her hidden soulmate marks and her foreign language and her secrets and her intense feelings.

Pearl... Pearl loves Marina.

And Marina loves her.

Marina looks up. Pearl is still kneeling there, hands on Marina’s bare leg, one thumb rubbing soothing circles into Marina’s skin.

The carefully constructed walls crumble.

“I—” Marina tries to say.

“It’s okay.” Pearl smiles sadly at her. “It’s okay if you don’t like me back. I just... I had to tell you. I wasn’t ever going to, because of _these_...” She knocks one hand into her hip with a dull _smack_. “I figured it’d be too cruel. What if I told you and my match showed up? I couldn’t _do_ that to you. But... It’s _you_.”

Marina’s tongue is in knots. She can’t speak. She just shakes her head. What _can_ she say? Where does she even begin?

“I know you haven’t seen your freckles. But I just... I have this _feeling_, you know? Mine are always the same color as your ink... _Always_. And you have that weird tattoo right where they’re supposed to be. That _can’t_ be a coincidence. What’s up with that anyway?”

It hits then. She’ll have to tell Pearl. If she accepts this, if she accepts that Pearl is telling the truth and isn’t lying just to ease the sudden revelation, to try to normalize the fact that they’re marked for each other, she’ll have to tell Pearl that she’s an octoling. She’ll have to tell Pearl that she’s been lying to her this whole time.

She’ll have to trust Pearl with everything. She’ll have to turn into an octopus and let Pearl see her, in her most basic form, to judge her for all of her omissions.

She’ll have to give herself completely.

“I don’t know.” Marina’s leg begins to bounce, sending Pearl’s hand up and down with it. “I... This is a lot.”

Pearl cracks a grin then. “Yeah, this is crazy. But... You have _no idea_ how fuckin’ happy I was when I figured it out... It’s _you! _I shoulda known!”

Looking at her like this, Marina almost does it. She almost gives in and lays it all out, almost turns into an octopus right on the couch with Pearl’s hands on her, but the part of her that’s been preparing the fortifications won’t let her. There’s still that small, self-defensive piece that won’t give in, that’s convinced that this is all some cruel, cosmic joke. Plus, her safety is at risk here. What if Pearl flips and kicks her out? What if she doesn’t want anything to do with her, marks or no?

“Yeah...” Marina says. She avoids Pearl’s eyes, leg still bouncing, hands curled into tight fists, body tense.

Pearl finally picks up on the hesitation, the pain behind Marina’s voice. “Reena... Are you okay? I... I know it’s a long shot, but if you feel even slightly the same way—”

Marina can’t lie to her. That’d be cruel. Plus, she needs to say it, to get it out there. She needs it so desperately, just to let off some of the pressure. So, she presses her hands against her eyes and says, “I do.”

“You... do?”

Marina nods. “I do... I... I like you too, but—”

Pearl lets out a small, excited noise but then aborts it with a gasp, like she can’t stop it.

“But...” Marina lets her hands fall again. “You... You don’t _know_ me.”

“What? Yes, I do. Marina, you’re—”

“You don’t. I... I need space. I need to think.” She stands shakily, and Pearl, shocked by her sudden change, lets her hands fall away. “I... I’m sorry. I— I don’t know if I can do this.”

“_What_? But we... We’re _marked_ and you said you feel— Marina, just _talk _to me!”

Marina shakes her head and finally takes her second step, eats up the first and then takes another and another. “I’m sorry,” she repeats as she makes for her room.

“It’s okay,” she hears Pearl say. “I— I’ll wait.”

And that just breaks Marina’s hearts all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to actually finishing this thing (well, I have one more chapter to write, but I'm through the climax), so I can confidently say that the final chapter count will be eight (8)! My initial word count projection was 15k and I'm a little over 20k now, so I'm counting that as a success lol. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the comments and kudos! Over 75 kudos on this little fic already! I'm blown away!
> 
> Twitter: [@theashemarie](https://twitter.com/theashemarie)
> 
> Next update will be on Sunday, October 6! See you then! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! 🙏


	5. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina thinks, and then she finally does something about all this.

Marina spends the rest of the day in her room. She doesn’t cry because she’s dry after last night and, besides, she feels like she doesn’t deserve it. After all, she’s not the one who’s been baring her soul over the past two days; that would be Pearl. Pearl is the one who’s been making all the decisions, telling Marina everything, while Marina’s been sitting there feeling sorry for herself. It’s Pearl who revealed her mark, Pearl who tried to comfort Marina about it, Pearl who took the chance and told Marina that she loved her.

And there’s also the fact that Marina is so _excited_. As soon as she gets in the door, she leans back against it and grins. Pearl loves her. Pearl is _in love_ with her. And not just that—they’re _marked_. That means they’re destined for each other. No matter what, Marina can continue on, content in the knowledge that, at the very least, she hasn’t been silently loving Pearl for nothing. There’s a purpose and no matter how covered her freckles are, they’re still _there_ and they still matter.

But then, as she leans her head back against the door, she feels incredibly terrible about this whole thing. There’s Pearl, laying it all out, taking the biggest risk Marina’s ever seen, and there’s Marina, running away because she’s too afraid to do the same.

She slides down to the floor and stares down at her own bare legs. What’s she supposed to do? What can she say? Apologies are in order, but will Pearl ever forgive her? Especially after this roller coaster of a weekend. Honestly, Marina wouldn’t blame Pearl if she never wanted to talk to her again.

Marina needs to tell her. She needs to show her. No matter what happens, she owes Pearl that.

But... She’s not sure if she can.

For all her bravery, for all her training, for all her rash decisions and her luck up here on the surface, she’s not sure if she can jeopardize her beautiful present, her perfect life with her perfect partner. After all she’s been through, the childhood of brainwashing, the battle to get to the surface, the struggle of learning a new language and culture, she doesn’t want to give up the one person who’s been there, who’s proven to her that life isn’t so bad, who’s been by her side and never wavered.

But, doesn’t she owe it to that person? Doesn’t she owe it to Pearl to _try_? After all, they could have something so much more... Something that will ensure that they’ll be together forever. Pearl’s taken so many chances on Marina... Isn’t it time that she does the same?

Marina groans and hits the back of her head lightly against the door.

+++

Two hours later, there’s a knock and Marina doesn’t hear it. She has headphones on, trying to get lost in the void of lo-fi, trying to get her thoughts in order. She’s lying on her bed in a large t-shirt, legs poking out over the edge, staring up at the ceiling. Nothing else exists except the blankets, the music, and the ceiling.

Until her phone buzzes. She yanks it free of its charger and holds it up, squints at it because her glasses are over on the nightstand, and sighs when she sees the message: _food outside_.

She can see everything as it is now. Pearl communicates her love through acts of service and attentive care, while Marina communicates hers through touch and quality time. They’ve been telling each other how much they love one another for months but the other never picked up on it. They were speaking two different languages.

Marina rolls off her bed and pads to the door. She cracks it open and doesn’t see Pearl out there, just a plate of leftover pizza and a carefully arranged salad in a bowl, along with a bottle of Marina’s favorite dressing on the side. Marina steps into the hall and grabs the tray, shoulders her way back into the room, and kicks the door closed as quickly as possible. It’s pretty cowardly of her, but she can’t bear seeing Pearl just yet.

As she shakes the dressing and pours some onto her salad, she goes over the facts. The emotion of the past few days is gone, replaced now with Marina’s more analytical, logical brain. The facts are that she’s been lying for a while, which means that she’s used to it. She likes her life as it is and doesn’t want it to change. That means there’s a big possibility that she _likes_ the lying.

She spears some lettuce and spinach with her fork and shoves it into her mouth angrily. No, that’s not right either. She doesn’t _like _to lie. How many times has she almost blown the whole thing wide open because she can’t stand to lie to Pearl’s face?

Morally, inkling society is pretty clear: lying is bad. But, what about lying for survival? It’s not so black and white and she’s not a child reading fairytales anyway. In Octo Valley, lying wasn’t so much morally wrong as insubordinate, so Marina feels all gross about it for two reasons—it feels like she’s breaking some social taboo _and_ like she’s disrespecting Pearl, her best friend and the closest thing she has to a superior here in Inkopolis. But that’s not right either; she and Pearl are _equals_, have been since the beginning.

This all started because when she met Pearl, she was _sure_ Pearl would figure it out. She was sure that Pearl would ask her something like “Yo, you an octoling or something?” but she never did. She just assumed Marina was like everyone else. It made sense really. What reason would Pearl have to assume differently? Every humanoid she’s ever met has been an inkling.

So, Marina just went along with it. Really, she didn’t actively lie. Instead, it was more lying by omission, by not correcting her. But things went smoothly, and Marina was good at not mentioning it. After all, inklings and octolings aren’t that different—she didn’t have to try _that_ hard to hide it.

So... what’s stopping her from simply not hiding it anymore? What’s stopping her from marching out there and slipping into octopus form right in front of Pearl?

Nothing except her own fear and dedication to protecting the status quo.

But, she loves Pearl... and Pearl loves her. Pearl will accept her, no matter what.

But... What if she doesn’t?

Marina could probably keep going back and forth like this for a while. She’s caught in a cycle now, where the part of her that trusts Pearl explicitly is butting heads with the part of her that’s determined to keep her safe, happiness be damned.

She just needs to decide which side she wants to live with, which side she needs to get rid of.

Marina munches into the pizza—crispy from the toaster oven—and breathes out slowly. She knows which side she _wants_ to go with... She wants to trust Pearl, wants to end this lying game, wants to finally open herself up to the one person that she trusts in everything else. She _wants _to let herself love fully, to let Pearl love her in return. They’re so close, have the marks to prove it.

Now, Marina just has to get over herself.

+++

The evening, Marina eventually has to get out of her room because she can’t stand being locked in there anymore. She ended up pacing around, drawing, composing a little, and counting the fibers in her rug before she felt like she was going to start climbing the walls if she didn’t get out. She carries the tray as quietly as she can and deposits it in the sink before running some water and reaching for the sponge.

They have a dishwasher but something about handwashing helps center her. She lathers up the soap and lets the hot water scald her skin as she runs the sponge over the plate, digs the corner into a particularly stubborn splotch of pizza sauce, and allows herself to relax.

Until, of course, like clockwork, like gravity, Pearl appears with the hand towel. She takes up the dishes that Marina placed in the drying rack and rubs them dry with mindful focus, never once glancing too long in Marina’s direction. Inevitably, their hands touch as Marina passes the bowl over and then the glass that she’s been sipping water out of all day, but neither flinches, neither even acknowledges that it happened. Instead, they stand there, washing dishes, drying dishes, putting dishes away without a word. Then, Marina sighs and leans back against the counter. There’s a wet spot on her shirt but that always happens when she washes dishes and Pearl looks at it with something Marina can’t read in her eyes.

She reaches out to touch it, as if she can’t believe it’s real, and Marina can feel the weight of Pearl’s hand against her stomach. It sends up a small flare of nerve endings through her whole midsection, but she manages to keep herself from reacting outwardly.

“Pearl—” Marina begins, at the exact same time that Pearl says,

“Marina—”

They both blush and Pearl looks away. She’s wearing a hoodie today, long enough to cover her knees, and Marina is pretty sure she doesn’t have any shorts, just underwear, on underneath. They’re the same—big tops, no bottoms, all the better to get at soulmate marks on hips. Or, perhaps, there’s just nothing left to hide.

“You go,” Pearl says. “I think I’ve talked enough.”

Marina smiles at that. It’s the first time in two days that she’s managed it and when Pearl sees it she can’t help but smile back.

“I’m sorry,” Marina says, because she really _is..._ This whole thing is her fault, really; if she wasn’t so scared, this wouldn’t have ever happened. “I wasn’t prepared for all this...”

Pearl snorts. “Understatement of the year. I just... Look I know I just told you you could talk, but I just wanted to say... I meant what I said this morning. I... I lo— like you. _A lot_. And if you really _do _feel the same...”

“I do.” Marina says, and then takes in a deep breath, holds it in her lungs, before letting it out slowly. This will be easier if she walks herself up to the big reveal. First, Pearl deserves to hear the good news.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while,” Marina says, plain, matter of fact, because there’s no point hiding it anymore. It’s about time she returns the favor and tells Pearl what’s going on with her.

Pearl’s face turns a bright pink and Marina swears she sees her hair light up like her special’s charged, but then Pearl breaks out in a huge grin and gets control of herself. The small fire in her hair disappears as quickly as it appeared, and she looks up at Marina with the biggest, dumbest grin Marina’s ever seen. Her hands reach out, like she wants a hug, but then she holds herself back. It’s the most control Marina’s ever seen her exercise and it warms her through. Pearl is trying to be thoughtful, to let Marina dictate this, to wait for permission.

Marina holds her arms out, a welcome invitation, and Pearl moves so fast Marina is pretty sure she superjumps. Pearl crashes into her chest, laughing, suddenly laughing in such a carefree, joyous way that Marina can’t help but join her. They fall to the floor in a heap of limbs and tentacles and Pearl lands right on top of Marina, but it doesn’t hurt. For a second, Marina is too happy to feel any pain.

Pearl hovers above her and all Marina can see is her face. Marina, moved by some unseen force, reaches up and places a hand along Pearl’s cheek, cradles Pearl’s face in her palm, and Pearl grins at her. The sight of it causes the flock of butterflies living in Marina’s stomach to kick into a flurry and she feels her toes curl.

“I love you too,” Pearl says, shifting her weight onto one her elbows so she can place her hand in the same place on Marina’s face in a direct mirror. “It’s been... Fuck, I don’t even know? Six months? I... I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Marina, suddenly consumed only with _this_, by the weight of Pearl’s body on hers, by the fact that, suddenly, she’s in such an intimate position with Pearl, a position that she’d never dared dream of, saying something she was sure she’d always keep to herself, hearing things that she only imagined deep in her own subconscious, forgets everything else and her whole world narrows to just them, to Pearl, above her, their legs twined together, Pearl’s soft skin under the hand, Pearl’s warm palm on her face.

“I didn’t know how to say it either,” Marina says, and then laughs. “Oh, what a pair of fools we are.”

Pearl grins and leans down so their foreheads are touching. “We’re _matched_...” she whispers, voice full of wonder, of awe, of reverence. “Reena... We’re _soulmates_.”

That’s what does it. Marina feels that word spike through her whole body like a lance of heat. She lets out a small gasp and Pearl’s face is so close that Marina feels her lips brush just there against Pearl’s chin. Pearl makes a small noise in response.

“Kiss me,” Marina says, fingers tightening around Pearl’s face. Her logical brain is no longer in control. Instead, she’s back to the emotional sphere that’s dictated the past two days—but, this time, it’s _ecstatic_, _elated, excited_ to finally get what it so desperately wants. Pearl is so close, her mouth is right there, and they both want this, have _been_ _wanting_ this for _months_.

And, they’re _matched_... Underneath their clothes are two constellations of freckles, exact in their mirroring, one set pink, one set turquoise, and they’ve been there since they both went through puberty, since they developed legs and skin—two identical promises.

Pearl’s eyes are smoldering like their white-hot sun and she looks exactly how Marina feels. Her face is bright pink in its blush and her lips are parted just enough that Marina can see her teeth.

“I want to,” that mouth says. The teeth come together on the _T_ and that reverberates through Marina’s whole body, straight down the skin, igniting every nerve ending. Marina’s hand moves from Pearl’s cheek, down to her neck.

“_Let me kiss you_,” Marina begs, desperate.

That, finally, is too much. Consent freely given by both sides, Pearl grins a grin that’s all teeth. “_Gladly_.”

She nudges her face forward and their lips meet immediately. All thought, all worries, disappear as Pearl gives herself fully, allows her body to relax, and they both finally get what they’ve been waiting so long for. Marina’s whole world, her whole being, it taken up in this moment, in Pearl and her _lips _and the weight of her pliable body, and _mm _Marina _loves _Pearl, loves her more than she ever imagined.

Marina’s hand moves again, this time slides up to the back of Pearl’s neck, to her nape, where she rests her whole hand. She doesn’t apply any pressure, far too preoccupied with the sensation of Pearl’s mouth against hers, but the sensation of her hand there makes Pearl let out a small, impassioned noise.

Pearl’s lip slips between hers and Marina happily moves to accommodate it. They move against each other, keep it chaste without tongue, but Pearl does nip at her once, which makes Marina grin. It’s such a Pearl move, so rowdy in its unexpectedness, that Marina can’t be anything more than be pleasantly surprised. She grins into the kiss and that makes Pearl laugh against her mouth.

Eventually, they have to pull away to breathe and Pearl falls to bury her face in the fabric of Marina’s shirt at her shoulder. She laughs, deep and bellyfull, and Marina feels it shake her whole body.

“I can’t believe...” Pearl doesn’t finish, but Marina understands.

“Me either...”

Pearl turns her head, breathes into the skin of Marina’s neck. “I’d like to do it again.”

Marina feels her toes curl again. “I’d like you to.”

Pearl laughs, high and chiming, and Marina happily echoes her.

On their hips, their marks remain matched, and they meet lips again—a promise fulfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I can't believe this thing has over 90 kudos! WHAT?! (Also, let it be known, as I haven't mention this in a while, that I will never _ever_ have smut in my stories.)
> 
> Next update will be on Sunday, October 13! (Two days after my birthday! Wow!) 
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! Birthday present? :D?


	6. Pattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today... is the day.

They spend the rest of the evening wrapped up together. Eventually, they clamber up from the floor and Pearl pulls Marina to the couch, where they end up knotted together. Marina ends up on her back because Pearl pushes her down and leverages herself back in place against her chest. Pearl is smaller, lighter, so this makes sense, and Marina really likes to feel her weight like this, so she actually snuggles further into the couch.

They kiss slowly, all urgency gone as they acquaint themselves with this new experience, these new sensations, all this new joy. Marina tells herself, in the lull between kisses, when Pearl rises to gather glasses of water—because she’s worried about Marina’s hydration too—that she’ll tell Pearl the rest later. Right now, she just wants to enjoy this, just wants to let herself have this one evening of simplicity before she goes and complicates everything again. She feels like they deserve it.

As the clock hands move slowly in their never-ending circle, Pearl and Marina lie there on the couch, kissing, snuggling, sometimes talking. Marina rubs her hand on Pearl’s back and tells her that she’s been pining for at least six months. Pearl chuckles and says that she was much the same. They’ve been falling for each other for almost the same amount of time and that isn’t a surprise, to be honest. They’ve always been on pretty much the same page since the beginning. Of course they’d catch feelings at around the same time.

“I just...” Pearl is sitting up at the end of the couch, legs pulled into her chest, because Marina is sipping on her water. She picks at the fabric of her hoodie and stares with a furrowed brow at her knees. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out... I mean, _of course _it was you.” She gives her knees a stare that plainly says how stunned she is. “The first time we met, I was so _drawn_ to you, and we just... _clicked_. I always assumed it was just because... Y’know. We’re Marina and Pearl. When we met, I felt like I’d known you _forever_ and we didn’t even speak the same language! Ha...” She laughs quietly at herself. “_Fuck,_ I was dumb.”

Marina swirls her drink around the glass. “Don’t beat yourself up too hard. I didn’t figure it out either.” She watches the small cyclone of water as it swirls in organized chaos before breaking apart like a small storm system. “I never really had a close friend like you.” She sighs and learns forward to put the drink on the coffee table. “But yeah, we really did just fit together like two halves of a whole, huh?”

Pearl looks up at her. “I wouldn’t say that. I’d say it was more like... We blended together so well that our edges disappeared.”

Marina grins and scoots across the couch so that she can tug Pearl around, pull her out of her own thoughts. “Hey...” She crawls so that she can nudge her nose into Pearl’s. “That was really poetic. You’re not losing your rough edges, are you? Am I softening you up?”

The cloudy thoughtfulness in Pearl’s eyes clears up instantly. “Never!” She throws her arms around Marina’s neck and drags her down into another kiss, this one just as slow and exploratory as the others. Marina melts into it, feels her body relax into Pearl’s.

But it aborts early as Pearl pulls back.

“Promise me something,” she says to Marina’s breathless, flushed face.

“Anything,” Marina says, and means it. She can feel her hearts in her chest, pulsing with a beat that’s slightly elevated because she still can’t believe all this. Even hours after their first kiss, she can’t wrap her mind around the fact that this is happening.

“Don’t run from me anymore, okay?” Despite her early declaration, Pearl’s expression is still soft, so soft, and her voice is quiet, so quiet that it scares Marina for a second. She reaches up and cups Marina’s face in her hand. “I had to watch you run away three times because you wouldn’t talk to me this weekend and that _hurt_, Mar... It hurt to see you so hurt and scared. Talk to me when you have a problem, okay? Promise?”

Marina stares at her, looks her right in the eye, and she swears that she sees Pearl’s very soul look back at her. This is Pearl with no front, Pearl in the raw, Pearl pleading for something that she’s desperate about. This is Pearl at her most genuine.

“Of course,” Marina says, mouth suddenly very dry. “I will. I just... I needed time this weekend.”

Pearl nods. “Good. I get that, but I knew that if I let you, you would run yourself in circles for weeks and I— I couldn’t take it, especially after I figured it out. You have _no idea_ how much I dig you.”

Marina smiles and lets her head fall so that it’s resting in the crook of Pearl’s neck. “I think I have a good idea. I dig you too, remember?”

Pearl’s head leans into hers in a facsimile of a hug. “Shit, that’s so good to hear. I’ll never get over that. You give me goosebumps.”

Marina chuckles into Pearl’s neck but doesn’t reply. Suddenly, she’s very aware of her own otherness, of how her tentacles brush strangely against Pearl’s skin, of how her body is so much bigger than Pearl’s, of how her fingers are long and pointed while Pearl’s are blunt and rounded. She _needs_ to tell her.

She promised not to run anyway.

She doesn’t want to lie anymore.

“Should probably get to bed,” Pearl says to the side of Marina’s head.

She needs to tell Pearl that she’s an octoling.

She needs to, before this goes any further.

“Do you... Do you wanna sleep in my room tonight?” Pearl runs a hand over Marina’s tentacles, a comforting gesture that just makes Marina tense slightly. “I want to be close to you.”

She _has_ to tell her.

“You don’t have to,” Pearl continues.

“I want to,” Marina whispers. She curls her fingers into the fabric of Pearl’s hoodie, doesn’t ever want to let go.

“_Oh_,” Pearl breathes. “Let’s— Let’s go then. We have work in the morning.”

Marina rises and helps Pearl to her feet. Pearl grins up at her and leads her out of the living room; Marina switches the light off as they leave. In the bedroom, they crawl under the covers and lie on their sides, facing each other.

“Sleep well, Reena,” Pearl says into the darkness. Just there, Marina feels a butterfly of a touch against her face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams, Pearlie,” Marina says. What she leaves out: _I’ll tell you in the morning_.

She promises herself that. Tomorrow... Tomorrow she finally stops running.

+++

Marina wakes up incredibly warm and with her arms full. Pearl’s scent is familiar from years of close proximity, so she knows immediately exactly where she is, exactly how she got here. There’s no disorientation from waking. Instead, she wakes slowly, content, with Pearl’s body pressed close to hers.

Sometime during the night, Pearl managed to flip over and wriggle as close as she could to Marina—or did Marina do the wriggling? Regardless, they ended up nestled together like two spoons in a drawer, Pearl’s body enveloped in Marina’s long arms. Marina shoves her face into the back of Pearl’s head so she can take in her scent fully, breathe in air that’s all Pearl, and the sensation of her breath tickling Pearl’s neck wakes her. She stirs in Marina’s arms and when she eventually manages to crane her neck back, she’s smiling around her sleepiness, bright and stunned, like she can’t imagine that this is real.

“Good morning,” Marina says.

“_Great_ morning,” Pearl shoots back and snuggles back into place, wrapping both of her hands around Marina’s arm. “It’s _real_.”

Outside, thunder thuds lightly in the distance and, just there, Marina hears rain begin to patter the window. The perfect weather for lying in bed, snuggled up with the one you love most. “It’s _so _real,” she says. Carefully, she rests her hand on Pearl’s hip on top of the covers, right where the freckles are located. “We’re marked,” Marina repeats, just to say it, to have it be one of the first things of the morning.

“We’re marked!” Pearl cries, and wiggles in excitement. “Fuck, just think... The last time we went to work, everything was normal. You hadn’t seen my marks yet... That’s _wild_.”

“Mm,” Marina hums, and pulls Pearl in tighter by digging her arms into Pearl’s hard, dancer’s stomach. “I still can’t believe we’ve been marked this whole time and we didn’t know.”

Pearl presses her warm feet against Marina’s legs, looking for as much physical contact as she can get. “I can! We had a lot going on, and, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t wanna risk messing everything up... We have so much good shit going on right now. I couldn’t imagine like... What if I told you...? What if I showed you my marks with some baby hope that you’d have the same marks and you _didn’t_? I woulda been _stabbed_. Like holy shit.”

Marina doesn’t say anything because Pearl _gets it_— Maybe, Pearl will understand after all.

They lie together like that for another thirty minutes, waiting for Pearl’s alarm to ring. Marina gives herself this—this morning of calm, of the quiet thunderstorm just outside, of serenity, and of waking—promises herself that she _will_ tell Pearl today. Just not right now. Right now, they’re shaking off sleep, warmed by closeness and the sheer wonder of love, and stretching into their daytime bodies.

The truth is that she doesn’t think she could say it all right now, with Pearl so close, _in her bed_, in this intimate position. She imagines it, leaning in and whispering _I’m an octoling_. She imagines Pearl tensing in her arms, Pearl jerking away, rolling off the bed in her haste to get away. She imagines lying there, abandoned in the cold sheets with only her secrets to keep her company. It would be too much of a shock to the system so early in the morning. This is something that has to be done after they’ve gotten moving, after showers, after teeth brushing, after they have food in their bellies.

But... today. Today is the day.

+++

This morning isn’t it though. Once the alarm goes off, they don’t move for another fifteen minutes. Pearl smacks the clock onto the floor and crawls right back to Marina, where she proceeds to rest herself right on Marina’s chest. She’s warm and mussed from bed, soft around the edges because the day hasn’t taken its toll on her yet, and she blinks up at Marina like an owl, with all the wisdom of a child—profound, thoughtful, and innocent. To her, this love is something to be savored, something to be celebrated, something inevitable and wonderful. She has no idea that Marina is hiding several large secrets.

It's something, really, Marina thinks after they’ve managed to peel themselves from bed and stumbled into their appropriate bathrooms to shower and prepare for the day. Marina stares herself down in the mirror as she swirls her toothbrush around between her cheeks. It’s something, how Pearl is somehow the most headstrong, confident, and tough person Marina’s ever met, while also simultaneously being the softest, kindest, and most thoughtful. But, she’s only that second person around Marina. It’s a special privilege to be treated to Pearl’s soft, attentive side, the side where she peels away her tough skin and allows her soft light to shine through.

Marina wonders, as she spits in the sink and watches the water swirl around the drain, if that’s the soulmate marks’ doing or if Pearl is just like that. It’s hard to know, really, but Pearl’s _always_ been a bit softer to Marina, always tempers her teases, pulls her punches, especially when the day has been particularly rough. Sure, they still pick on each other like any close friends do, but, in private, Pearl gives up the tough persona for one that’s quieter and more vulnerable. There’s a familiarity that lives between them, built up by their joint vulnerability, Pearl’s thoughtfulness, and Marina’s penchant for close, physical contact. Before this all started, they supported, spoke to, and touched one another like they were intimately familiar, almost as if they’d been dating for months.

Maybe... Maybe they _have_.

It’s a funny thought, but it’s possible, what with the marks pulling them together, making them soft for each other. The marks work to signal, to point you toward your match, but, like Pearl said last night, they were _drawn_ to one another at their first meeting—and Marina trusted Pearl immediately even though they didn’t share a word in common and she was a jumpy, trigger-happy former soldier of eight days. She followed Pearl into her home and stuck by her ever since.

Marina sighs and pulls on her clothes—just a t-shirt and jeans. She checks herself in the mirror, straightens a twitching, anxious tentacle, and reaches for the light. Makeup will come at the studio, especially since it’s raining still, and she doesn’t feel up to it right now anyway. Maybe she can convince Pearl to do it for her once they get there.

And there it is again—relying on Pearl, adjusting to fit Pearl into her routine, her day, her life. They’re rarely apart and Marina’s come to rely on Pearl being there like her shadow, like the very air that she breathes. It’s comforting, especially now, thinking that Pearl is meant to be there, and that Marina is meant to be there with Pearl. With their mirrored marks, they’re tethered to each other.

When she gets to the kitchen, Pearl is already at the table. She’s dressed in her favorite pink hoodie but chose jeans because of the rain. The water won’t bother them because it’s fresh, but there’s something about wearing jeans in the rain that feels cozy... Same page again.

“We’re running late,” Marina says as she glances at the clock. Pearl barely glances up from her phone.

“I’m getting a car,” she mumbles. “Can’t take the bike with the rain. Do you want to get food on the way?”

Marina glances at their kitchen. It’s spic and span because they’ve barely touched it in the past few days. The pantry is almost empty because they haven’t been shopping in at least two weeks. “Yeah.”

“Kay.” Pearl punches a few more keys on her phone’s screen and then slaps it onto the table. “Car’ll be here in ten. I told the producer to have some umbrellas waiting for us. There’s no way we’ll have time to dry off before we go live.”

It hits her then that this is it. This is the moment. This is exactly when she can tell Pearl everything. They have ten minutes and she can easily boil it all down to three sentences: _I’m an octoling. I have this tattoo because I used to be part of the Octarian military, but I can show you my mark in octo form. I’m so, so sorry for lying to you._

She opens her mouth to do it before she second guesses herself. Who knows if she’ll have another opportunity today? Once they get home from work, they’ll be worn down by the day, by the lights, by the cameras, by the scripted, barbed jokes, by the meetings, by the emails, by the wardrobe fittings. It has to be now.

But then Pearl says: “Listen, Marina. I have something to tell you. It wasn’t an _accident_ that I showed you my— _Fuck!_” And her phone buzzes and lights up with her father’s face. It’s the emergency line so she grimaces in Marina’s direction, presses the phone to her face, and shoves away from the table to get some semblance of privacy.

Marina, whiplashed, can merely attempt to make herself look busy so she doesn’t appear like she’s trying to listen. She rips a paper towel off the roll and begins to wipe down the counter, searching for any crumbs that might have materialized over the weekend. In the living room, on the other side of the couch, Pearl hisses into the receiver.

“What do you want _me _to do? It’s your camp! I’m not the one who broke in— No! Of course it wasn’t me! I’ve been busy all weekend because we had a _concert_ in case you forgot. Yeah, Starfish Mainstage, sold out show. Uh huh. Apology accepted. Why would I break in and vandalize my family’s own camp? Okay, don’t answer that. I _know_ what I did— I was _fifteen_, Dad!”

Marina can’t help but smile to herself as she finally gives up the ruse and stops scrubbing at the immaculate counters. Outside, the rain is still coming down, pelting the windows in small rivulets that race each other down, down, down to the bottom. She watches the rain fall on Inkopolis, sees the gray of the world, and suddenly feels very cold.

There will be no time to tell Pearl now. The car will be here soon. As soon as Pearl hangs up, they’ll shrug into their jackets, grab their keys and bags, and step into the hall. They’ll race each other to the elevator and Pearl will win because Marina lets her win on Tuesdays. Then, Pearl will press the call button way too many times in her impatience and eventually they’ll sail downward. At the door, they’ll greet the doorman, who will hold an umbrella for them as they duck into the dark car that Pearl ordered. Then, it’s off to work. Oh, and food on the way since Pearl will _insist. _

Marina isn’t sure how work will go. They haven’t kissed yet today, something that’s making her itch, but Pearl is sending her heavy glances while she listens to her father. Marina can feel the heat from here, especially now that they’re both properly awake and have banished their morning breath. Should they keep it a secret at work? Should they tell anyone? Will this affect their working relationship? Will this change their dynamic? _What about when Marina tells Pearl that she’s not an inkling? _How will _that_ change things?

Marina feels a headache blossom just above her right eye.

“Oh, and Dad?” Suddenly, Pearl is there, standing right next to Marina with her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder. She extends her arms, holds her hands out to Marina in a wide sweep. It’s clearly a request for a hug, which Marina can’t deny her, especially because she really needs it right now too. Marina steps into her, wraps her arms around Pearl’s small body, and hears her quietly finish: “I found my soulmate.”

There’s a crackle as her father’s voice rises in volume. _Really? _Marina hears him ask, all glee. _That’s incredible, princess! Who is it? _

“It’s...” Pearl squeezes her tight. “It’s _Marina_.”

She says Marina’s name so breathlessly, with such excitement, that Marina feels her stomach flip. She smiles, smiles in spite of her headache, in spite of her own insecurities, in spite of everything standing before her, because, right now, it’s just them with their small celebration, with this large revelation, packaged into that two-word sentence.

Pearl’s father lets out a loud, congratulatory sound. Marina feels tears hit right behind her eyes and she blinks rapidly to hold them back. Pearl beams up at her, impossibly happy, impossibly thrilled, impossibly in love. That’s the face of someone who trusts without pause, who knows Marina’s ins and outs, who understands her despite all of her secrets. That’s the face of someone who will undoubtedly forgive any necessary lies because she loves so deeply, understands so acutely.

They’ve fallen hard. They’re meant for each other, and they accept every piece, every quirk, every lie. Pearl _will _forgive her, Marina thinks to herself as she watches Pearl gush to her father about this weekend, about how lucky they are, about how things are working out _perfectly_.

Pearl will forgive her. Marina has to hope. She has to have hope in Pearl.

She has to have hope in herself.

Pearl bids her father a farewell, looking incredibly pleased, and she looks right up at Marina, cranes her neck back. They’re still caught up in this extended hug, neither wanting to let go, and Marina feels Pearl elevate up onto her tiptoes.

“Hey,” she says. “I love you.”

It hits Marina hard. She feels all of her thoughts go up in volutes of smoke as her whole body heats up. She leans, leans like gravity, and presses her mouth to Pearl’s.

“I love you too,” she says, right into Pearl’s mouth. Pearl, ecstatic, tightens her arms again, and Marina loses all bearing on the world as their first kiss of the new day quickly deepens past the kisses of the past day. Pearl’s tongue nudges in and Marina meets it with her own.

When the car arrives, a couple minutes later, Pearl’s phone vibrates and they have to pull apart, gasping. Pearl laughs, loud, unfiltered, deep from her gut.

Marina, meanwhile, hears thunder, hears the rain, hears her own hearts, and tells herself again that she _will _do this. Everything will be okay.

Because there’s love here. There’s deep, seeded love that will weather anything.

“C’mon,” Pearl says as she steps away, “let’s go get some food. You need it.”

And if there’s anything Marina can count on, it’s Pearl’s steadfast reliability. Marina can rely on her, and their matching marks, and their years of history. She can rely on it like she can rely on Pearl’s constant reminders to eat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU CAN DO IT MARINA! WE ALL BELIEVE IN YOU! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented on last chapter! I'll reply to those within the next few days. I love you all! Also, thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday on Twitter and Tumblr! You guys made my day so special! <3
> 
> Next update will be on Sunday, October 20. See you then! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished!


	7. Etched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is the day. Marina tells her.

Work goes normally, all things considered. In the car, as they munch on breakfast wraps that they picked up through a drive-thru, they agree to pretend that nothing happened, at least for now. Work is a neutral zone, where romance and personal lives don’t exist, especially because all eyes are on them. It’s better if they just carry on like things are normal.

Which is exactly why, when they get into Marina’s dressing room, it’s a complete, pleasant shock when Pearl kicks the door closed behind her, grabs Marina’s arm, and tugs her down so she can kiss her. Marina, surprised, lets her, goes the whole way, and, somehow, they end up on the couch pressed into the corner. Marina feels her back land on the cushions and Pearl climbs into her lap, grabs Marina’s face between her hands, and kisses her hard and long, drawing her into a world that’s just theirs.

Through the thick walls of the studio, the sound of the rain and thunder is almost imperceptible, but Marina’s whole body thuds with the beat of her chest. Pearl’s hands move down so that they’re resting on Marina’s shoulders and then on her hips, fingers digging into the fabric of her t-shirt. Marina, meanwhile, loops her arms around Pearl’s neck and doesn’t get any further because Pearl’s hands touch a sensitive spot along her side and her whole body goes up in a mess of fuzzy sparks.

“I thought we agreed...” Marina gasps when Pearl finally pulls away, chest heaving.

“Gotta get through the rest of the day,” Pearl returns, just as breathless. “Plus, girl, you have _no idea_ how many times I’ve imagined kissing you like that on this couch. I fuckin’ _had_ to.”

Marina laughs and shakes her head. Pearl is smiling big, clearly pleased with herself, face slightly pink from the kiss, and Marina is struck by just how lucky they are—to have found each other, to have this life, to have so much success. It fills her chest, this affection, this happiness, this awe because they have all this and because they started life in two completely polarizing positions and had no business falling together like this. Yet, here they are, on Marina’s dressing room couch, in love, with matching marks and blurred edges, and a life that they built together. Just three years ago, Marina was brainwashed and stuck in Octo Valley with a tattoo covering the only hope she ever had, and now she’s here, with freedom, a place where she belongs, and... a soulmate.

There’s a knock on the door and Marina hears the voice of an intern call: “Live in fifteen!” Pearl groans and scrambles off while Marina lets her head fall back against the cushions.

“Listen,” Pearl says as she pads toward the door, “I know things are weird right now, but we’re gonna _kill _it out there. Try not to let me distract you.”

The last is clearly a tease but Marina can’t help but feel her face heat up. “You first. You could barely make it into the building without pouncing on me.”

Pearl sticks out her tongue and wraps her hand around the doorknob. “No promises!”

Marina chuckles, low and dry in the back of her throat. “Was it good?”

“Huh?”

“The kiss.” She pats the couch.

Pearl finally turns the knob and draws the door open. “Better than I imagined. I— Marina...”

“Go on,” Marina says as she finally pushes herself to stand. “I need to get dressed. See you in ten.”

+++

Things go well all day. They kill the news, just like Pearl predicted, and none of the tension of the weekend bleeds through to their performances. They’re typical Pearl and Marina—bubbly, upbeat, ribbing on each other when the script calls for it—though Pearl does give Marina a few sideways glances every now and then that make Marina feel like she’s on fire. She has to look away, blushing hard, and she forgets her next line once and has to squint at the teleprompter, but otherwise she recovers well.

Outside, the storm continues. There’re no kids peering into the window all day, which means that between broadcasts they sit at their table and have no one to entertain but each other. They talk about safe things—future tours, those wardrobe designs still sitting in Marina’s inbox, the song that Marina composed over the weekend, the next Tower Control rotation, the upcoming splatfest. One time, in retaliation for the sideways glances during broadcast, Marina stretches her leg out and runs her boot along the length of Pearl’s leg. Pearl’s face lights up pink and she looks away and bites her lip.

Marina tries not to let thoughts of the upcoming talk bother her. She knows that she has to do it today, but she’s giving herself the workday to figure out how. After all, it’s not like she can do it while they’re on the clock, sitting in front of a giant window, microphones, and cameras. It’ll have to be sometime tonight.

At this point, she just wants to get it over with. The longer she lets this go on, the more she lets the sudden physicality and emotionality of their relationship deepen, the harder it will be, especially because Pearl clearly thinks everything’s peachy and perfect. For her, there’s nothing wrong, nothing to worry about, and everything is slotting right into place. She has no idea that Marina is about to rock her whole world, change her whole view of their relationship. It’d be cruel to drag it out any longer.

They take lunch in Pearl’s dressing room and sit way too close together on the couch, so much so that Pearl is almost on top of her. As they munch on sandwiches, Pearl explains what happened when she left the apartment on Sunday, how she walked around the city, thinking, avoiding people, and decided that if she couldn’t have Marina because she was marked for someone else, she was going to at least help her find her soulmate.

“S’what best friends do,” Pearl says, one leg thrown over Marina’s. Her foot bounces to a song only she can hear. “I was fuckin’ hopeless, dude. Head over heels, but I thought you didn’t have a mark. Then, when I found out you _did_ have one, I felt like I’d been gutted or somethin’. I thought we were both marked for other people, and that _sucked_. But... But you deserved happiness, so I was gonna help you find your match.”

Marina, sandwich wrapped in her both hands, body bounding slightly with Pearl’s movement, can feel her face scrunch up. “I was the same way. I was ready to put myself through hell just so you could be happy. When you told me you loved someone... Pearlie... That _hurt_.”

Pearl wraps her arm around Marina’s shoulder and drags her into a sideways hug. “We were both so _dumb_, weren’t we? We hurt each other because we didn’t know how to say it... No more secrets like that, okay?”

Marina feels her mouth go dry and she sets her sandwich down in her own lap. “Pearl—”

“Don’t see how we can have any more secrets,” Pearl says quickly, letting out an incredulous laugh. “All these declarations... My head is still spinning.”

_You’d be surprised_, Marina wants to say but then she realizes that they’re still at the studio. If she tells Pearl now, it might get in the way of work, of the broadcasts they still need to record for tonight, for after they get off, of their chemistry, might distract Pearl so much that she might not land her lines or Marina might be too mortified to do their usual teasing routine.

“Yeah,” Marina says, instead of what needs to be said.

+++

They take the car back to the apartment and have to be dropped off down the block because there’s construction blocking the street. Together, they run into the building, holding their jackets above their heads, laughing and splashing each other as their shoes crash into the sidewalk. A few celebrity hunters recognize them and call out, asking for autographs, but they ignore them.

Pearl almost slips once but Marina catches her, grabs her arm and holds her steady. “_Thanks_,” Pearl breathes out as they finally round the corner and their apartment building appears before them. The doorman sees them and scrambles to grab his umbrella to meet them. Marina takes it from him as he jogs up, dressed in a raincoat, hood pulled over his head, and pulls Pearl close so that they can huddle together as they walk the last couple few yards to the building.

In their apartment, Marina wrings out her hair and shirt while Pearl merely pulls her hoodie off and drops it to the ground with a soft _plop_. She stretches herself tall, giving Marina a great view of her pale stomach, and falls onto the couch.

Marina passes her by and goes to change clothes. Her jeans are too tight and soggy for her to be comfortable and she desperately wants to wear something huge after being in her costume all day. Her midriff is ready for hibernation.

When she emerges, Pearl is in the same position, but she has her blanket wrapped around her shoulders again. The only part of her that Marina can see is her head, sticking out of the blanket like the top of a carrot. “Dinner?” she asks.

“Soup,” Marina answers.

“Perfect! You’re so smart.”

Marina sends her a smile and pads toward the kitchen, trying to remain calm. Now that they’re home, she can feel her everything standing on high alert. She’s running out of time. It has to be soon.

“Nuh uh!” Pearl calls and rushes toward her, blanket following her like a cape. She grabs Marina’s hips, fingers digging into the fabric of her warm pajama pants. “I’m making dinner tonight! You go relax.”

“You make dinner every night,” Marina protests weakly.

“That’s because I’m the better cook. Go sit down.”

Marina casts her a critical glance. “I’m not letting you do anything until you put a shirt on.”

Pearl scowls but pauses, considering the act of cooking without anything covering her stomach, what with the hot pots and boiling liquid. She rolls her eyes but turns and marches right to her room.

Marina, feeling itchy and uncomfortable in her own skin because of how anxious she is, begins to pace in a small circle in the kitchen. She’s going to do it, she tells herself. As soon as Pearl gets back, she’s going to say it. It’s just three words: _I’m an octoling_.

She’s going to say it. She’s going to let it out into the universe. Pearl’s ears will hear it and it’ll sail into her head, where her brain will crunch it into tiny pieces, and she’ll decide Marina’s fate. It will be up to Pearl if they get that happy ending, but it’ll be Marina’s fault if they don’t. But, she can’t keep it in anymore. The words are hot on her tongue, like tiny sparks of lightning, and there’s no turning back now.

“I’m thinking vegetable soup.” Pearl’s voice appears before Pearl herself, sent down the hall as she walks toward Marina. Everything slows down as Marina turns to see her, feet braced, hands curled into fists, jaw strong. Pearl comes around the corner and sees her, stops right there, face scrunched up. “Mar...? What’s wrong?”

“Pearlie...” She has to resist reaching out for her, resist comforting her. If she does that, it’ll just distract her. “I have something to tell you.”

Pearl’s lips press together in a tight line and she nods once, unsure. “Okay... I have something tell you too. I tried this morning but... You go first.”

Marina takes in a deep breath, allows it to fill her lungs completely, holds it there, and then lets it out. She ignores how bottomless her stomach feels.

“I’m... I haven’t been completely truthful with you. I’m... I’m not... I’m not _like _you.”

She watches Pearl’s face closely, but it doesn’t change at all, doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch. It’s like Pearl is made of stone, worried, thoughtful stone. Marina chooses to take that as a good sign, even though it’s probably a very bad one.

“I— Listen, I’m not... from here. I... Okay, I’m just gonna say it. There’s a _reason_ I couldn’t speak your language and that I didn’t understand anything about the city when you found me. The truth is that I’m... I’m not like you. I’m... _Ugh_, why is this so hard to say? I’m... I’m... not an inkling.” Pearl’s face still hasn’t changed, and she just watches, listens, waits patiently as Marina begins to ramble. “I’m an octoling! Oh, _damn,_ it feels weird to say that out loud. I haven’t... I haven’t told _anyone_. I’ve just... I’ve been keeping this secret for three years now and I can’t anymore, not since we’re... I mean! I’m not just telling you because of this whole soulmate thing! I was gonna tell you eventually. I just didn’t know how. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Pearl. I... I understand if you hate me or don’t want anything to do with me because I’ve lied to you for long, but I _had _to tell you and—”

“Mar...” Pearl reaches out and grabs Marina’s hands, holds them tight in hers. Marina feels her hearts drop, fall right into that bottomless stomach. Pearl doesn’t sound angry, or shocked, or surprised. She sounds... normal.

“Reena... I can’t understand you. You’re speaking Octarian.”

For a second, that doesn’t compute. Marina’s brain is too far ahead of her, trying to cycle through every stress response she’s prepared. “I’m... _What_?” It hits her then—she hasn’t been... Everything she just said, gone, put into the universe and Pearl’s ears, but it sailed right past Pearl’s brain. “_For how long_?”

Pearl grins. “Last I heard, you said you’re not from here. Like, _duh_. I _know_.”

“Oh... _Oh!_” The rest of Pearl’s statement hits her then, harder this time, almost knocks her over. _Octarian...!_

“Wait... You know it’s Octarian... _WAIT..._” Marina gasps.

Pearl holds her hands up, as if she’s trying to comfort _Marina. _“I figured it out like four weeks ago. Please don’t freak! I know it was your secret but... Like... I’m not _blind_.”

“Four... Four _weeks_...” Marina feels like she needs to sit down. Her brain can’t catch up with all of this and her body is going into nuclear panic mode. Pearl... Pearl _figured it out_— She... She _knows_— She’s _known_ for a _month_.

She’s known Marina’s deepest secret and she still... She still loves her. She still celebrated when she found out their marks matched. She... She was _ecstatic _that Marina was her soulmate.

“I’m sorry, Reena!” Pearl cries, and grabs Marina’s hands again. She pulls them up to her face and cups them against her cheeks, an attempt at comfort. “It just hit me! All the weird stuff when we met, how you’re so secretive about your squid form, why you’re so interested in mechanics and junk. Like... I was brushing my teeth and I almost _choked _when I figured it out! I shoulda told you but you’ve been trying to keep it a secret for so long and—”

“You know I’m an... A...” Marina needs to get this out, needs to hear it or something. Her brain is still caught on that.

“An octoling, yeah.”

Marina feels like she’s been struck by lightning. Hearing it makes her stumble back, looking for something to ground herself with. Pearl, panicked, rushes toward her, grabs her arms, and guides her to a chair at the table.

“Oh, fuck Marina. I’m so sorry! I can pretend that I don’t know! Would that be easier? I just! That’s why I showed you my marks after the concert... I was trying to even things out... My secret for yours! But then you _flipped_— And then suddenly we’re soulmates and—!”

Marina, finally seated, takes a deep breath, and she finally catches up with herself. She lets out a heavy, quaking breath. “You’re not mad?”

“_What_? Oh, hell no! I get you, girl! I know why you kept it a secret!”

Marina lets out a hard, sudden breath. She feels all of the weight of the past few days fly off, and it’s suddenly like she can breathe again, like it was all sitting there on her chest before. She looks at Pearl and her face is so _earnest_ and _worried_ and she’s _right there_ and she’s staring, unblinking, at Marina and Marina swears that in that moment she can see forever in her gaze. This is the face of the person who hasn’t ever let her down, _not once_, and who is always happy to see her, to be around her, to spend time with her, who was so excited when Marina said she loved her she jumped so fast across the room to hug her that they both fell to the floor.

This is... _Pearl. _This is Pearl. Marina’s best friend. Marina’s most trusted confidante. Marina’s steadfast, strong, rowdy partner.

The one person Marina loves so much that sometimes it _hurts_ to think about, who she loves so much that she can’t comprehend it, can’t quantify it, who she wants to be around more than anyone, who she desperately wants to spend the rest of her life with.

This is Pearl. Pearl, with her big smiles and her loud, boisterous personality. Pearl, with her strength and her kindness. Pearl—rich, spoiled, giving, and so, _so _beautiful and graceful.

Marina looks at her and all she can see is forever, years and years of laughter, of trust, of bickering about food and eating habits, of worrying about each other, of nights like last night where they gravitate toward each other, of staying up too late after concerts because saying goodnight means sleeping through valuable time they could be spending together, of promising to be _together_ like they are now. They spend all of their time _together_ and sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes, Marina just wants to hold Pearl in her arms and never let go. Sometimes, Pearl smiles at her and Marina wants to pause time, live in that moment, because Pearl’s smiles and laughter feel like sunrises—dawning in their beauty.

“Marina?” Pearl steps close, close enough that she has to step between Marina’s knees. She grabs Marina’s face again, rubs her thumb under Marina’s eye. “You’re crying.”

She is, she realizes. Her face is hot and sticky and there are long trails tracing their way down her cheeks. She blinks to banish the tears, but that just makes them fall faster as she squeezes them out.

“I just...” she says, and then has to cough to clear her throat. “I love you _so much_... And I’m— I’m so happy that this didn’t explode like I was expecting.”

“_What_?” Pearl’s fingers tighten and she gently nudges Marina’s face to look up at her. “Why would I _explode_? You had a reason—”

“I know.” Marina wraps her fingers around Pearl’s hand. “I—I— I didn’t want anything to change. Everything’s been going so perfectly. I didn’t want to ruin it, but I couldn’t keep lying to you. I know I had a reason, but you’ve put so much faith and trust in me... I needed to return the favor.”

Pearl’s face, scrunched up in worry, clears into understanding. “Well, you did! Now, we’re even, square, equal. From now on, I’ll tell you everything, okay?”

Marina lets go of Pearl’s hand so she can throw her arms around Pearl’s body and pull her into a hug. “And I’ll tell _you _everything.”

They stay like that for a long time, hugging, Marina with her face pressed into the soft fabric of Pearl’s shirt, breathing in her scent. She finally feels like she can relax, for the first time in three years.

“Actually, I do have something to tell you,” Pearl says after an undistinguishable amount of time. Marina pulls away enough to look up at her. “I’m in love with this girl. She’s really tall and has beautiful hair. I think she’s an octoling? Her name is Marina.”

Marina feels a huge, relieved smile split her face. “I might know her... But I have something to tell you... I’m in love with someone too. She’s short and has the cutest smile. She has big mouth, though.”

“Hey! I do _not_—Mnph!”

Marina cuts off any loud denials by reaching up, grabbing Pearl by the shoulders, pulling her down, and sealing their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, seeing the Final Fest dialogue: oh I can USE this. 
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for all the kudos and comments! I'm blown away?? 100+ kudos for this little fic... I cry every time I look.
> 
> Twitter: [@theashemarie](https://twitter.com/theashemarie)
> 
> Next (and final) update will be on Sunday, November 10! (That's two weeks from now! In the meantime, keep your eyes out for a Halloween fic!) See you then! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished!


	8. Matched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fanart by the amazing Cauden!](https://twitter.com/CaudenArt/status/1195325261241356288?s=20) (Read along for MAXIMUM GAY!)

They scrap their dinner plans and instead order in. While they wait for delivery, they end up on the couch, talking quietly. Marina finally lets loose, tells Pearl _everything_, from her complete past to the details of the last few days. Pearl listens quietly, stroking Marina’s hair when a few tears break free every now and then, and only speaks when Marina asks her something or pauses, looking for some kind of response.

“I just can’t believe you figured it out,” Marina says as she looks up. She’s lying with her head in Pearl’s lap, legs sticking out over the end of the couch. “_And_ you kept it from me. I guess I really was stuck in my own world.”

Pearl laughs and plays tentatively with the end of one of Marina’s tentacles, watching as it curls around and around her fingers like a worm on a string. “To be fair, it’s not like you _expected_ me to figure it out—”

“I did, at the beginning.”

“I meant like... last month. You thought I thought you were an inkling. There was no reason for you to think I’d figured it out.” She tugs lightly on the tentacle. “Plus, I’m a great actress.” 

Marina let’s out a small _ha_. “Yeah... I’m still... Why did you think you had to show me your marks?”

Pearl shrugs and watches as the tentacle wraps around her wrist, tight, possessive. “You _know_ me, y’know? You know everything about me. And I know you. And I knew that the octoling thing... That was _huge_! That was, like, earth-shattering. At first, I was so shocked when I figured it out that I didn’t know _what_ to do. I went back and forth over telling you, but I didn’t want to scare you away. I— Mar, I loved you so much, even then... I didn’t want to risk anything.

“But, I wanted to even things out somehow. I know it sounds dumb, but I felt like I _owed_ you because I kinda illegally figured out your secret without you knowing. I wanted to give you some leverage over me, I guess? I know it doesn’t make sense now... I just wanted to _give_ you something since I felt like I _took_ something.”

That is... so sweet and _such_ a Pearl move that Marina has to close her eyes to keep herself from chuckling. Pearl’s face is _so _earnest and so concerned and it’s _so endearing_.

“So you decided to let me see your soulmate marks...” Marina sighs. “I guess it makes sense. Those _are_ kinda secret around here.”

Pearl’s hands land on her legs on either side of Marina’s head; Marina opens her eyes to see Pearl looming over her. “You tellin’ me they’re _not _in Octo Valley or whatever?”

Marina shakes her head. “No, they’re pretty public when you first get them. There aren’t any secrets in the barracks. Then, once you get them covered, no one mentions them again.”

Pearl leans back and puts her hands back on Marina’s hair, draws small symbols against the top of her head with a short fingernail. “That sounds... sad.”

“It is...” Marina whispers. “Didn’t realize it at the time, though. Brainwashing, y’know?”

Pearl’s expression scrunches up in horror and Marina’s eyes widen. She’d forgotten that Pearl didn’t know _everything_, not yet, and she’d not gotten to the brainwashing yet. “_No, _Marina, I _don’t_ know. You were _brainw—”_

Marina places her hand right over Pearl’s mouth as gently as she can. “I’ll explain that later, okay? It’s... It’s touchy for me. But I promise I’ll explain eventually.”

Pearl gives her a look that says just how desperately she wants to continue down this line of questioning, but, ultimately, she respects Marina’s wishes and drops it. Carefully, she grabs Marina’s hand and pulls it away so she can speak. She laces their fingers together.

“So you’ve seen them?” Pearl asks, tactfully changing the subject. “The marks, I mean.”

Marina shakes her head, sending her hair into a frenzied wiggle. “I haven’t seen my freckles in this form since I was fourteen.”

Pearl is perceptive so she quickly picks up on what goes unsaid. “Can... Can you see them in squid— I mean octo form?”

Marina looks away, focuses on the vaulted ceiling above Pearl’s head. “Yeah, they’re still there. Always pink. The same arrangement as yours.”

“Can _I _see them?”

Marina bites her lip and squeezes Pearl’s hand. “I want to show you, but...”

“...but?”

“But...” Marina sits up so she can see Pearl fully, can look her right in the eye. She pivots so that she’s facing Pearl, crosses her legs in front of herself, and Pearl does the same. “I don’t want you to freak out.”

“What’s there to freak about?”

“I’m... I’m _not_ a squid. I know it’s easy to forget when we’re like this...” She holds her arm out, fingers pointed, to prove it. They look almost identical where it counts: two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, one mouth, one nose, skin, eyebrows, tentacles for hair. The only differences are the tips of Marina’s fingers, her mask, and the shape of her hair. “But I’m an octopus. You’re used to...” She moves her hands to illustrate the pointed angles of an inkling in squid form. “Triangles. I’m round, and I—”

“Marina...” Pearl grabs her hand and laces her fingers through Marina’s tight, as tight as she can. “You can’t fuckin’ scare me away. You’re round and I’m pointed! That doesn’t mean I don’t love you! In fact, that makes me love you _more_. You’re so brave and strong for leaving your home and moving here and you’re so _patient_—like, you let me teach you a second language and you didn’t get frustrated at me because I _know_ I sucked at it but we did it _together_ and—” She cuts herself off with a laugh. “Look, what I’m saying is that we’ve gone through too much for me to run away just because you don’t look like a squid. You _aren’t_ a squid and I know that! I just... I want to see you, and I want to see your marks... It’s— Those are what brought us together. But only if you’re okay with it.”

Marina places her hand on the back of Pearl’s neck and pulls her head forward so that they can lean their foreheads together. “I don’t think the marks are what did it,” she says as their foreheads nudge. “I think it was all us. The marks just helped us along...” She breathes out slowly, focusing on the sensation of Pearl’s skin against hers. “Catch me.”

Marina shifts into octo form and the sensation of falling is familiar. She drops, her tentacles catching air, and braces for impact with the couch.

“Wha—? _Ah!_”

Pearl is faster though. Her hands fly out and Marina lands between them, cradled carefully by her arms. Marina can see her, looking down at her with a tense expression. “Be _careful, _damn,” she grumbles as she pulls Marina closer to her chest. “Also, you coulda told me you were _big_.”

Marina doesn’t say anything, just lets herself be pulled along. Pearl places her carefully in her lap, arranges her turquoise limbs so that they’re draped over her legs. Then, Pearl stills as the reality of the situation seems to hit her. Her eyes widen and her hands pull away, hovering anxiously, nervously, as she takes in Marina’s body, her rounded head, shiny skin, all eight of her limbs.

“Reena... You’re...” She cuts herself off with a sharp breath and Marina sees Pearl’s eyes hone, her gaze focus, on Marina’s right side. Right where her mark is.

Her hand comes out and Marina realizes that it’s shaking, quivering, as it moves toward the mark. Marina shifts slightly, leans as far as she can to give Pearl better access, and feels Pearl’s fingers touch, brush lightly against the mark.

“_Pink_,” Pearl says, voice hitched. Marina’s eyes swivel quickly because she _swears_ that Pearl is _about to cry_ but that _can’t be right_—

Pearl’s face is a vivid pink, flushed with emotion, and her eyes are bright with tears. They don’t fall though, just sit there, as she leans closer to look, to confirm to herself that the freckles are real. Pearl’s hair changes color, morphing from her typical pink to a purple, and Marina can’t see her own soulmate freckles, but she _knows_ they’re changing too, changing in time, to the exact shade that Pearl stops on.

Pearl lets out a small sob, confirming what Marina already knew, and her eyes finally break away from the marks. She locks eyes with Marina and her expression is so openly shocked and awed that Marina can’t take it anymore.

She shifts back, slips back into her humanoid form, right there in Pearl’s lap. Pearl yelps but recovers quickly. She looks up at Marina, grinning at her, with tears in her own eyes, and she throws her arms around her and buries her face in Marina’s side. Marina happily copies her, hugs her as well as she can while still in her lap, and Pearl only burrows further in.

“I knew it was real, but _fuck_! Marina, we’re _matched_!” she wails into Marina’s shirt, fingers digging into her stomach. “It’s... You’re _beautiful_ and the marks are there and they’re just like mine! And they turned purple! And... _Oh!_”

Pearl scrambles back, yanking roughly at her own clothes. “Fuck, fuck! Marina, get off for a second! I—”

Marina scoots back, terrified that she was squishing her or something, but Pearl doesn’t pause for a second. She drops into squid form and hops right into Marina’s lap, angling herself so that Marina can see her marks. They’re in the same spot on her little triangular body and are a vibrant turquoise. Marina feels something in her shift, _click_, like the turn of heels in a dance, because it’s one thing to see Pearl’s marks on her humanoid body, but it’s an entirely other thing to see them on _this_ body. This is the same type of body that Marina’s been seeing her own marks on for _years_—her humanoid form’s marks long covered and inaccessible, _this _is the sight that she’s used to.

There they are... A perfect mirror of her own, as if someone copied them with careful exactness. She looks at Pearl, hands rising to cover her mouth, and Pearl wiggles happily. “Go on,” she gurgles. “Change color.”

Marina doesn’t have to be told twice. She allows her ink to shift a few shades, from turquoise to a dark blue, and is rewarded by the bright spots changing with her. There, on Pearl’s purple body, are several blue dots.

Pearl jumps back into her humanoid body and lands on her knees, between Marina’s extended legs. She grabs Marina’s face between both of her hands and holds her there like a precious antique. “We’re _matched_,” she whispers, still purple.

“An _exact _match,” Marina confirms, hands landing on Pearl’s hips, right over the mark. Her eyes fall closed because this is just too much. “I love you.”

Pearl lets out a high, chiming laugh. “I love you too! I can’t believe I get to say that! I love you, Marina Iida!”

“Pearl...” Marina tightens her fingers, suddenly overcome by the sound of that, by those words. “Kiss me already.”

Pearl laughs and Marina opens her eyes to see Pearl send her a bright, wicked grin. “Aw, but Reena... We have _forever_ now. We’re soulmates, after all!”

Marina clicks her tongue and pushes her arms further around Pearl’s body. She pulls her close, pulls her flush, so that their chests and stomachs are touching. Pearl lets out a small, pained, needy sound. “What was that?”

Pearl lets out a tiny noise that can only be classified as a groan. She doesn’t say anything else, just gives Marina what she wants, what they both want, and presses their lips together.

As they kiss, Marina leans into the couch and Pearl follows her, even as they push and pull on each other, still discovering, still testing, and when they pull away to breathe, Pearl’s body relaxes on top of hers.

“An incredible forever...” she mumbles into Marina’s neck. “I can’t wait.”

Marina places a hand against the back of her head, cradles her like the precious thing she is, and she considers that—years of this, a never-ending string of days they spend _together_, teaching each other, worrying, discovering, loving. Someday, they’ll get rings and do this properly, but, for now, with their matched marks, they’re bound together by something stronger than promises. They’re bound together by fate, by inevitability, by their own stubborn refusal to love anyone else.

“We’re already there,” Marina says. “Forever starts now.”

Pearl laughs, carefree, and cranes up to kiss her again. As she does, Marina realizes that she’s never, _ever_ been more excited to see what comes next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the award for sappiest ending goes to...
> 
> For real though, I'm very emotional about this story coming to an end. I really, really enjoyed working on this piece and I'm so glad that I saw it through to the end. I'm happy to have it finished, but I'm also sad that it's coming to an end... (I've been considering continuing this story in some capacity, but we'll see. Not a true sequel but I love the world that I've created and haven't really explored much re: soulmate marks.)
> 
> I don't have the words to express my intense thanks to everyone who's read, enjoyed, left kudos, and commented on this story. This one turned into one of my favorites--it was just so _fun_ to write and see reactions to--so seeing all of your enjoyment really made this whole experience special. I just... Thank you SO MUCH. (Of course, I'm not gone or anything. I try to update some Pearlina piece every Sunday, so keep your eyes peeled for that.)
> 
> Additional thanks: 
> 
> Katie: Thank you for reading every word and answering all the highly specific questions I had about pacing, and for helping me trudge through the emotions of certain scenes. You're my first reader and your feedback, no matter how detailed or sparse, means so much to me. You facilitate a lot of this unstoppable writer energy I have, and for that I can never thank you enough. Also, I love you to death. We should get married some day. 
> 
> Pantal00ns: Thank you for reaching out and suggesting this prompt on Tumblr! Neither one of us expected me to go this over-the-top with it, but here we are. I'm _so_ glad I followed my gut! And, I'm so glad that you enjoyed reading this thing. I wanted to create something that would make us both proud lol!
> 
> My lads: Thank you for always being there. Your support is invaluable to me. I wouldn't be who I am today without you, and I wouldn't have the courage to write all this sappy, gay nonsense without y'all to back me up. 
> 
> Check me out on Twitter if that's your neck of the woods: [@theashemarie](https://twitter.com/theashemarie)!
> 
> Anyway... I guess that's it. Wow. This story is officially finished! See you soon! 
> 
> For the last time, kudos and comments are cherished! <3


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